


On The Edge

by inkribbon



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Anxiety, Drama & Romance, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Drama, Father-Son Relationship, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:56:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 110,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27764101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkribbon/pseuds/inkribbon
Summary: After their ordeals in the wilderness, living on the edge far too long, it was time to come back now. Rick wasn’t sure if this extravagant clueless town was ready for the realities of the world outside, but he knew one thing. It was going to have to work. One way or another. There was no other option.[Sequel to Not Too Far Gone Yet]
Relationships: Beth Greene & Amanda Shepherd, Beth Greene & Carl Grimes, Beth Greene (Walking Dead) & Original Male Character(s), Carl Grimes & Original Female Character(s), Carl Grimes & Rick Grimes, Daryl Dixon/Joan(Walking Dead: Grady Memorial Hospital), Rick Grimes/Amanda Shepherd, Rick Grimes/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 38
Kudos: 13





	1. 'Shall we begin?'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The leader of Alexandria welcomes their new sheriff, and his people. Rick readies himself for a new game.

Deanna Monroe’s day started with a headache that split her head in two. She opened her eyes in her gloomy master bedroom, her hand moving over to her temples to massage her soft, wrinkling skin. Her eyes prickled as if small needles were poking them as the veins in her head pounded with each breath she took.

Deanna hadn’t slept well last night. Her sleep had been interrupted in an unexpected way, but the fifty-eight-year-old woman knew sleep deprivation wasn’t the only reason for it. No. Not even close. After what happened last night, Deanna would’ve been more surprised if the day started with anything less than a nuisance. Her days had been starting with nuisances for a long time, and it was just another reason why she was having this killer headache now.

Moving her head on the pillow, she looked at Reg. Her husband was still sleeping, an ability that sometimes Deanna envied. Careful not to rouse her husband, Deanna silently slipped off the bed and walked to the bathroom. She needed a hot bath to release the tension in her muscles. And think. Get ready. Today was going to be a long day, that much Deanna had gathered as soon as she’d seen the new arrivals at the gate when Spencer had woken them up after midnight. One look, and it’d been enough.

She slowly walked over the cool tiles in the bathroom, feeling the chill under her feet. The cold bit into her skin and dissolved any cobwebs from her mind as she adjusted the water. Hot water. Baths. Adjusting the temperature. Briefly she wondered what the newcomers would think of them, but she forced the thoughts away. It wasn’t the time for those questions yet. She slid off her black dressing g.own, took off her chemise, and stepped into the tub.

The Empire style bathroom decorated with modern touches reminded her of home like the house itself always did, but forcefully, Deanna corrected the thought. This was her _home_. She couldn’t tolerate any other way of thinking anymore, especially today. She didn’t know exactly how long she stayed in the tub, but when she left it, the water had already started getting cold, and when she walked out of the bathroom, the bed was empty.

Deanna went to her vanity table and started getting ready. She wore her trustworthy classic ankle cut beige pants with a sturdy white shirt. Over the shirt, she put on her faded pink and beige Chanel tweed jacket and slipped on the same brand nude flats. The weather was getting too cold for flats, but Deanna was rather fond of her shoes. They were comfortable, one of the pairs she’d brought from home when the military had directed them to this town instead of Ohio. She was sure her luggage had also a pair of her ankle boots, but she still wanted to save the days as much as she could. Taking her pearl necklace from her vanity’s drawer, she fastened it around her neck before she slipped the matching earrings in her earlobes. She put on her watch last and started doing her make-up.

Deanna had stopped wearing make-up daily, but today was a special occasion. She wanted to be on her best game, and those purple bags under her eyes wouldn’t do it for her. She quickly applied the concealer under her eyes first, then took the silk-foundation and massaged the creamy product on her face after moisturizing her skin. Next, she dabbed a few touches of peach blush on her cheekbones, faintly applied mascara to frame her eyelashes, and looked into the mirror to check her handiwork.

There. The woman in the reflection didn’t seem like someone who had only slept three or so hours last night. She looked collected, level headed, and reassuring, even though her head still throbbed. She needed a coffee. She managed a smile in front of the mirror, remembering the way she used to rehearse her speeches for Congress to get herself prepared, but she forced that thought away as well.

Tossing a last look to the mirror, Deanna left the master bedroom and headed downstairs. The living area was on the first floor, safely tucked away from the long hall and on the opposite side of the kitchen. Beside it, there was a small parlor where sometimes she took her coffee.

The living room, though, was turned into a sort of…reception room. The modern touches of classic style were there like the rest of the house, although the furniture in the spacious room had a more classic effect than other parts of the house, from the long dining table, buffet, and hangings on the walls. The room was a narrow rectangle, with two facades looking east and west. The dining table was placed in front of the southern wall, and in front of it to the left was placed a very comfortable lounging couch in black leather, with a custom made soft red blanket and pillows laid over it. The rugs covering the hardwood floor was custom made, too, handmade in the same color of the blanket. The room’s left wall was covered with shelves of books for the full length, facing the couch. On the other side, there was an Empire Style comfortable armchair in clear sight of the camera that stood on the tripod at the back of the leather couch.

It was the place Deanna held her first interviews.

She passed the couch and the armchair quickly and went to the white floor length window at the corner. Pivoting her body, she angled her sight and looked outside.

There they were—the two houses she’d placed their new…guests in last night. If she could keep her torso aligned a bit towards the left side, she could also get a peek at the porch at the house on the left side… And she moved—then her gaze caught it.

And there he was, too.

With that bushy beard and attitude as he stood still holding the porch’s white railings, it was impossible for Deanna not to recognize the man. She’d seen him in the middle of night in the dark, but even from the distance between their houses, the sight of him was unmistakable.

Silently, Deanna let out a breath.

Their new sheriff.

Well, Deanna had asked for this.

The man had company, another man she was remembering from last night, but the names were still fuzzy. The man was wearing a leather vest over a dark shirt and supporting an even rougher look than Rick Grimes. They seemed to be having a talk as they surveyed the town.

From where she was, Deanna couldn’t see clearly, but she was sure the deputy had a pinch across his brows as he did, like last night when they met. It was a brief moment, the clear but cutting blue eyes gazing at her openly, sternly—eyes glinting with a sharp edge. Deanna had always been a good poker player, had always been a quick study.

After another assessing look, Deanna had smiled at the man, holding out her hand for a handshake, and welcomed them to Alexandria. She got Spencer to quickly arrange the two buildings at the right side of the compound, since was a clear view of those houses from her own living area. She’d left them with a good night, assuring them that they were among friends, and they would talk tomorrow.

Now tomorrow had arrived.

Nineteen people.

What—what the hell Aaron _was_ thinking?

She barely held herself from shaking the recruiter while asking that question… Nineteen people!! People looking like that!

Yet, they’d opened their gates.

Reg walked in the room at that moment, holding a cup of her morning coffee. The warm steam was still rising from the porcelain cup, and gladly Deanna took the hot beverage from her husband. They exchanged a quick morning kiss as she did, and Deanna smiled at him. “Morning.”

“Morning—” Reg said, moving to the opposite side of the window’s frame. “Checking out the newcomers?”

Deanna nodded. “Thought it might be good looking at them from a distance.” Reg nodded. Her husband had gotten accustomed to politics quite a lot during their almost thirty yearlong marriage. They’d met when they’d been both at Harvard, Deanna in Law, Reg in Architecture, and had been together since then. She couldn’t even imagine a life without him now, and it was basically the reason _why_ she wanted those men on that porch across them. “Spencer called in Aaron and Denise?”

“Just like you instructed last night,” Reg replied. “They should be here in a minute.”

Deanna nodded, her eyes turning towards the porch again. She needed to have a full brief with Aaron before they started having interviews. They also couldn’t do it last night, not after Deanna had seen Eric’s state—but it was morning now. As she sipped from her cup, really grateful for the itchy feeling across her throat, a woman came out to the porch too and stood beside the deputy. Deanna recognized her, too, it was the woman who held the baby tucked against her chest last night.

The baby.

These people also had a baby. A little baby girl—over six months… Even thinking of a childbirth in their condition made Deanna feel bad for the woman and the baby, even though she wasn’t sure if the woman was the mama. She had soft brown hair, put up in a half ponytail, wearing dark combat pants with a white shirt and leather jacket. She composed herself with an air of training. The sheriff’s deputy and the sergeant half dressed in BDUs had that air, too. Last night, Aaron had mentioned they had another police officer and a medic among their numbers—but Deanna wasn’t sure. It was one of the reasons why she had to talk to Aaron. She had to know.

They were all on the porch now, talking, but something happened, even Deanna saw it happening from where she stood. They got tense, their postures turning rigid. She couldn’t see it clearly, but the woman seemed to be glaring at the deputy, then she swiftly spun on her heel and stalked back into the house. The look the deputy had given her must be a glare, and then the man bowed his head before she disappeared. Before she did, two women–one a grey haired, the other dark curly haired- came outside to join the men. They met at the porch’s screen door before the woman quickly walked in as the other women came out. The deputy greeted them with a jerk of his head, a terse gesture, before he started going inside after the woman.

Deanna narrowed her eyes at the scene. 

Aaron. She needed to talk with Aaron. Now. But before the recruiter came, she heard the front door open and a few seconds later, Aiden appeared at the threshold of the room. Deanna had stationed him and his team outside the houses to watch out last night. They had taken a risk to let them in and putting them in the houses. Deanna hadn’t seen any better option, though. Aaron had brought them in. Deanna had given him a job, and the recruiter did it. She couldn’t undo that, not without undoing her own authority before the procedures started, and they made the final decision.

Her firstborn swaggered inside. “This is really not good, Mother—” he said as a way of greeting. “They’re too crowded.” he started talking like a breeze, taking up from where he’d left last night after Deanna had sent him away for watch. “Nineteen people—” he exclaimed, disbelief dripping from his tone, and despite what she’d done, Deanna would hardly fault her son for that.

“Nineteen people!” he almost shouted, repeating the count as if she could ever forget while he crossed the room. “Mother—you’ve given him too much of a free hand,” he continued berating her. “I told you he was gonna end up with something like this.” He shook his head agitatedly. “I _told_ you.”

“Aiden—” Deanna cooled her voice into her best politician mode. “You know what we need,” she spoke calmly. “Aaron even mentioned they have a sergeant, a police officer, and a medic among them.”

It was such a brief talk they had before they were separated. 3 AM by the look of them wasn’t a good time to start a conversation. Deanna had only managed to pull that much out of him before Aaron started dragging his husband towards their house.

They were in bad shape. Eric was limping with a knee injury, and the others—God, the others… Deanna had never seen people looking that much like savages. They were dirty, smelly, and covered with things she didn’t even want to imagine. She spied blood stains on their clothes, which were caked with dirt. The women’s hair was tangled with leaves and hay, Deanna suspected, and men had scruffy, unkempt beards. The deputy's was even spreading under his chin towards his neck.

Deanna debated with herself for a second if she should give them time to make themselves…presentable again. But usually to gauge their guests better, they held the interviews before they cleaned themselves up. Denise had mentioned interviewing them in the ways they came to them would give them a better insight into their mindset, and Deanna had agreed.

No. She wanted to see them in the ways they were.

“We’re managing just fine, Mother—” Aiden bit off, and almost startled, Deanna turned to her firstborn. Were they? Deanna wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t going to tell that to her son.

Aiden was trying, as best he could. He wasn’t raised for this. None of them were. But he was in ROTC, and he’d been trying, going out there even though each time he set a foot outside, a part of her wanted to lock him inside the house—never let him out ever again. But that was the desire of a mother for her child, not of a leader, so Deanna kept it where it belonged: deep inside her chest.

“We discussed it before, Aiden,” she remarked, putting a distinctive dismissal in her tone that wouldn’t go unnoticed by his son. She couldn’t take this right now. “You know my views on the subject.”

She took another sip from the cup to give herself some time as Aiden opened his mouth for a comeback, but his retort was cut off as the door opened the second time. A few seconds later, Spencer let Aaron and Denise inside. A chorus of good mornings echoed at the same time as they walked in.

Sipping her coffee, Deanne nodded in acknowledgement and turned to Denise. “Have they filled you in?” she questioned the psychologist. Last night, it’d been only her, Aaron, and Spencer before Spencer called his brother and his team to stand guard after she’d dismissed their guests into the houses. Deanna didn’t see any reason to wake the psychologist up when she realized there was nothing else to do in the middle of the night beyond placing the arrivals indoors and dealing with it in the morning.

The dirty blonde haired woman nodded, trying to hold back from fidgeting. Deanna tried not to scowl, seeing the woman, telling herself she was only an apprentice in clinical psychology. The truth was the woman would have never ever been in her staff if things were different, and that fact had reminded her again of her own people, her team, the usual ease she had used to have working with them… She stopped her thoughts. These people were what she had, and she had to work with what she had.

Her team—her staff—Deanna had lost them. If Michelle were here, she would’ve already had a detailed report on her desk on the newcomers, a full analysis, and if Root were here—her personal detail, the head of her security, Deanna wouldn’t have needed these people in the first place! But if wishes were horses…As Deanna had known since the military who had cut their way to her hometown, driving her away from the rest of her staff. Denise was what she had now.

“Just the basics—” Denise said. “Aaron said we have newcomers.”

Deanna nodded. “Nineteen of them,” she elaborated. “Aaron found a sheriff’s deputy. They came after midnight. We start interviewing them ASAP, but I want to know what you know first, Aaron.” Her eyes turned to the former NGO dealer. “How did you find them? How did you open contact? How did they react?” she rapid fired the questions that had been turning inside her head since she’d gone back to bed last night, sleep eluding her. “And what happened to Eric?”

“Eric—I decided to make first contact alone—so I left Eric in a warehouse five or so miles away. But we ran into problems. A small herd. They attacked us when I was with them, then I saw Eric’s flare, realized he was in trouble.” He paused. “They—they came with me to find him.”

Deanne arched an eyebrow as Aiden huffed. “They came with you?” he repeated. “To rescue someone that they don’t even know?”

There was skepticism in her son’s voice once more, and Deanna shared it. But if these people were the kind of people who would do that, perhaps they still had a chance… But Aaron cleared his throat. “Well, there was some…urging.”

Deanna gave her recruiter a plain look and ordered. “Start from the beginning. How did you find him?”

Then Aaron started talking. He recounted them his tale, the way he’d found them, spied on them and then half got caught, half walked in himself. How the sheriff’s deputy, Rick, punched him in the face after a few exchanges, the way they bound him. Deanna was fully scowling after that. The man had been opposed to coming here but got cornered because of his people… Then the dead attacked—and how they went to retrieve Eric—

Aaron took a breath there. “He—Rick said it’s not a favor. He said if we’re going to live together, he didn’t want it starting with something like this. But he said if he deemed it not safe, he wouldn’t take the risk—”

Aiden made a noise. “Such heroics.”

Aaron turned to him. “There’s no heroics anymore, Aiden. He accepts that much.” The recruiter paused again before he continued. “But he…tries. Tries to be a good man. I couldn’t get Eric out if he didn’t try.”

Deanna nodded. “The others,” she asked. “You said there was a sergeant, another police officer and a medic.”

“And a nurse—” Aaron added. “She tended Eric’s wound later. She stayed behind when we left to look for Eric, but she’s better than the medic.” Deanna nodded again. It made sense. Medical personnel were one of the most valuable assets. They wouldn’t endanger her with something like that.

The reality that she might have another medical person on her hands, someone for Pete to train…well, that was unexpected. Her lips almost broke out in a smile. She waved a hand at Aaron to continue. “There’s a cop from the Atlanta Police Department. She was the one who was holding the baby.”

Deanna nodded again. “She’s the mother?”

Aaron shook his head. “No. I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think so.” the man paused again. “The baby. She’s the deputy’s,” he stated after a second. “He’s got another child, a teenage boy. She isn’t the mother—but well—”

Deanna gave a look at the man. “Well?” he prompted.

“They might be in a sort of relationship, but I’m not sure of its true nature,” he replied openly. “Though, they’re close.”

“How close?”

“Like—she-uh—yelled at his face and got away with it. She wanted to come here, but Rick was dragging his feet.” Aiden snickered. “They don’t mind getting into each other’s personal space…you know…closeness.” He cleared his throat. “But they’re not married. It’s not a certain indication but they don’t have rings.”

Deanna gave another half nod, almost absently this time, but it was Spencer who had said it out loud. “So he’s shagging her?”

“Spencer!” Reg raised his voice as Deanna took another sip from her cup. She never liked vulgarity, but she didn’t mind right now. “It’s not our business how anyone prefers to spend their spare time with.”

Putting down her cup on the stand beside the window, Deanna slanted another look at the now quasi deserted porch. There was only the man with the leather vest, as the rest of them had moved back inside. “Actually, it is. We need to know who’s with who, and who’s at odds with who.” Her gaze turned to Denise. “Right, Denise?”

“The small but close-knit groups didn’t have intricate relations,” the psychologist supplied quickly. “Most of the time knowing the levels of their affiliations means solving their modus operandi.”

“Exactly—” Deanna remarked, nodding. “Knowledge is power.” She turned to Aaron again. “Are there others who are in…close relations than others?”

“The medic is with someone, I believe. I saw them kissing before we left,” Aaron answered directly. “I saw sergeant has a girlfriend. Rosita. I saw them, too.”

“All right,” Deanna concluded. “Is there anything else I need to know before we start interviewing?” She made another pause. “I think it’s time we host our new sheriff.”

Aaron gave her an incredulous look. “You're starting interviews right now?” he asked. “They—they couldn’t freshen up themselves yet.”

“I already gave them a night. We need to start now,” she retorted with a finality in her tone as she started moving away from the window. She wanted to see them in their own element. Her eyes flicked over to the recruiter again. “Is there anything else?”

That made Aaron hesitate as the man looked at her. Deanna stopped. “The sergeant—” Aaron started after a few seconds as Deanna looked at him in silence. “He—wants to talk to you. He—he’s agreed to come to find Eric because of it…” Aaron cleared his throat again. “A scientist is with him. He—he believes he could cure the virus.”

There was a silence in the room after that declaration, each staring at the man, until Deanna broke it. “A cure—a cure to stop it?”

Aaron shrugged. “I—I don’t know. He said he wants to talk to you. They—they were trying to go to the Pentagon to find a lab before I found them. Trying to get to D.C.”

Aiden shook his head before he exclaimed. “Are they—are they mad?” he cried out. “D.C. is a graveyard!”

“We don’t know that for sure—” Aaron started, but Spencer cut him off.

“No, we do,” he said. “We _came_ from there.”

“That was two years ago.”

Deanna cut off the bickering. “It’s not the time for this—” she stated firmly. “Aaron, go bring the deputy. I want to talk to him.” She waved her hand to her sons. “You—both out. Denise, you’re with me.”

“Yes, Deanna,” the plump blonde woman replied as she went and took her place at the dining table where she usually sat for the interviews.

Deanna watched as her sons left the house with Aaron and Reg went upstairs to his own study. Aiden had brought some books from his last run, and her husband had been trying to sort them out to see if there would be some source of knowledge among them that would help them in their conditions.

Basically, Alexandria was a self-sufficient community with its separate eco-based infrastructure systems, cisterns, and solar panels, but the durability of them had been keeping Deanna awake nights for a long time. Once a solar panel had gotten broken, and they couldn’t get it back online no matter how long they tried. Their pantry was full and well-stocked by the military, but the same question still plagued Deanna…how long? She’d been sitting with Reg at nights, planning, drawing, thinking, but each time Deanna came to the same conclusion.

She couldn’t do this alone. She needed someone, someone to delegate some of her…concerns relating to the security at least, so she could start planning on building their future. A leader couldn’t fight on all fronts all by herself.

Their town needed a sheriff. Deanna didn’t have time to police their people. She should govern. She had to.

She allowed herself a brief sigh before muttering to Denise, “I’m going upstairs to my study. Let me know when he’s come.”

Upstairs, instead of her study, she headed to the master bedroom and checked her appearance. The woman who looked at her back seemed old, too old. Her skin was wrinkled, spotted with dots that had come with age. The crow’s feet around her eyes were etched on her skin permanently. Even with the concealer and foundation, her skin looked tired, and the bags under her eyes visible. They were the traces of times no make-up trick would erase, but Deanna still tried. Deanna couldn’t let her emotions faze her. She walked to her vanity table purposely and took out concealer and foundation. She applied them again carefully, then rechecked her appearance. She shifted the pearl necklace around her neck, dusted off her tweed jacket, and gave herself a little smile in the mirror. She looked collected, levelled, reassuring—

She heard the door opening downstairs. Footsteps came up before she heard Denise’s voice, “Deanna, he’s come.”

Deanna gave a nod at her reflection. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

She walked out and started heading down the steps, Denise at her heels. She strode down the hall, her pace still purposeful, and stopped at the threshold of the living room.

He was beside the floor length window she’d been standing at this morning—at the same _angle_ , checking. Even from his profile, under that long, dense, bushy beard, Deanna could see a scowl as he stared ahead towards the houses. His expression was still stern. Deanna realized at that moment he'd figured out that she’d set them up in those houses on purpose.

His eyes darted toward her quickly as he stood still beside the full glass window, one hand propped against his hip. They’d taken their weapons before they were dispatched to the houses last night, but he was still carrying that long machete blade at his right hip. His hands, Deanna realized, his hands were still covered with pale blood stains. Deanna wondered if he even slept a second last night.

Probably not. “Hello, Rick—” Deanna greeted him, pulling her lips into a smile as she walked inside the room. “I hope you found the accommodations to your liking.”

He gave a scoff as his head twisted toward her for a second before he turned again to the window. Deanna stopped beside the camera as Denise took her post behind the dining table. “This is Denise. She’s our psychologist.” She made the introduction. Another look wad slanted at Denise as she sat down. “She supervises the interviews.”

The deputy gave an indifferent nod, another terse, curt gesture. “Yeah, Aaron mentioned.”

“Do you mind if I film it?” That made him face her fully, finally. “For transparency, we also record the interviews—” she explained. It wasn’t only for transparency, as Deanna also preferred to watch them again as a less involved observer afterward, trying to assess the interviews after a break.

She half expected the savage man to oppose it. He must have known what she was really aiming for, but he only waved an idle hand as his eyes returned to the outside. “Go ahead.”

Deanna held back the urge to go stand beside him and look at what was there—if something was there beyond the houses—to get him this—interested…something…or someone?

Firmly staying where she was, she turned on the camera. She strode around behind the couch, making it a bigger sweep on purpose and managed a peek outside. Some of his people were out on the porch. Deanna saw his teenage boy together with a teenage girl with shoulder length blonde hair. The grey-haired woman was with a little girl and the officer, again with the baby girl. They were all out on the porch, looking out at the town as the deputy looked at them down from her window.

Deanna settled herself on the couch. She pivoted to the man and gave him another small smile, collected, level headed, and reassuring. It was a smile she’d worked on in front of a mirror a million times before she asked, “Shall we begin?”

Giving the outside a last look, Rick Grimes turned aside and started walking to the armchair in front of the couch.

# # #

As the sun started rising, Rick watched the town in the better light. He was standing on one of the porches of the houses that they’d settled them into last night, his hands holding the railings tightly to keep himself from drumming his fingers against his machete. Like he’d expected, his gun was taken upon entrance.

That much the townspeople at least hadn’t forgotten, but the rest… Rick wasn’t satisfied. As he kept his body immobile, his eyes skidded to his left and backward and checked the three men who were supposed to keep watch on them. Two of them had already slept on duty, and the other was—Rick didn’t want to bet, but the other looked like he couldn’t even hold a fight against Carl.

There were two more in front of the houses, but one of them had already slipped away. The last one, a curly dark-haired man around in his early thirties, looked a bit more like he knew what he was doing ,but nevertheless, it didn’t change his conclusion.

These people had welcomed them with open arms in the middle of the night, nineteen of them, then settled them in houses, leaving poor security to protect themselves. If Rick and the rest of his family weren’t the people who they were, these people would’ve been in deep shit.

The people they were—

The thought brought Carl’s earlier question before they had gone to Terminus; _What would we tell them, dad? What happened to us—what we did to survive—_

Rick found out his answer hadn’t changed yet. He would tell them who they were—they were people who lived with a simple code _: they kill the dead and don’t hurt the living unless they try to hurt them or the others._

Amanda’s code was still the best answer, but now would it be enough?

He watched the people who were spying on them. Their lack of protection would cause them to pay a high price again. They would not—they were _not_ going to pay it again because of the others' carelessness or stupidity. Maggie’s loss still cut too deeply, etched too far into his bones to make him ever forget that.

His attention turning back to the town, Rick surveyed it more closely. Even in the pitch dark, Rick had noticed it, but now in this eerie time before dawn, it seemed even more palpable. The quiet. The stillness. The town was too quiet—no sound at all. It irked him a great deal, and Rick scowled.

A life of sustainability.

Alexandria’s Dream.

The town—the town really looked like an oasis in a desert.

His eyes moved towards the flower beds in front of the house, bright colorful rows of them in front of the porch. He thought for a second he would make a bouquet for Amanda, before he wondered why these people had flowers instead of planting vegetables like they’d done at the prison.

As far as he could see from his vantage point, Rick couldn’t see any single plant in the town other than flowers and trees. It was nice—it was beautiful, and it was stupid. Food was essential to their survival, while flowers were a luxury.

His eyes roamed around one more time, moving first to the angle of the solar panels. They were stashed at the back towards the gate, well-hidden from the front, set not to muddle the ambience that the town tried to ooze. His eyes turned to the white picket fences, two-story houses, all a part of the carefully designed amenities…all arranged and designed to create that atmosphere. He could see the highest part of a bell tower on the east side and a big white house across from them to the east behind the sun that Aaron had mentioned was the community center. If he squinted, leaning out over the railings, he could even catch a glimpse of the pond in front of it.

They still hadn’t taken the whole welcome _tour_ _,_ but the roads around them were wide and well-kept, having a tartan track for single person use at the side. Rick could see the red tartan circle the town all around. Amanda would love that, he thought as he heard soft footsteps behind him.

A couple of seconds later, Daryl came to his side. He’d taken the watch outside in back, while Rick had taken the front last night, and Glenn and Amanda kept watch inside.

He checked his wrist—if his watch was correct, they’d been here for less than five hours. Aaron had mentioned last night before they separated that their leader would want to start the interviews in the morning. Rick expected a bit more time before it started. Perhaps he would go inside, leave the watch to Abraham, and take Amanda in a secluded corner and have an one eye open sleep for an hour or so at least before it _truly_ started. Rick was sure Amanda hadn’t blinked even once during the whole night, too. It didn’t seem like a good idea to deal with these people with a sleep deprived mind. But Daryl had come to his side and the men in cover at the front had started moving, too—

“The idiots left—” Daryl roughed out, propping his back at the angle of the beams in the corner beside him, facing him. “’tis ridiculous, man,” his hunter friend, his brother, rattled, pissed off, shaking his head.

Rick shared the sentiment. “Yeah—”

Daryl gave a look around, too, surveying things—still shaking his head. “Can’t ever imagine myself living in them houses before—” he muttered as Rick looked at the house across from them—another two story—the upper level an attic.

Rick shook his head, his gaze making another sweep of the idyllic town... and before he knew it, the words poured out… “Lori—” he said. “She used to dream about us living in one of them one day.”

As soon as the words were uttered, the screen door of the porch opened and revealed Amanda, who stood still at the threshold, hearing his words. Rick wanted to kick something, toss his head back, and scream…

Just the thing, just the thing he needed right now.

Her expression was cool, but the rigid way she squared her shoulders told Rick openly. She had started at least _mention_ _ing_ Lori’s name, but she still didn't like hearing it.

 _I didn’t like it_ —he remembered her confession from the funeral home, which now seemed ages ago… He gave her a look as she still stood at the door, Daryl looking everywhere but at them. The next second, she schooled her features into indifference and stepped out, coming to their side.

She’d brushed off something she didn’t like once again. Rick didn’t know. He didn’t know even why he opened his damn mouth and made that comment! It—it just had come out, perhaps this whole ambience reminded him his old life—

His old life… His eyes skipped to her again, and for a second, the urge to take her in his arms rose strongly. This was the life he had…the life he wanted… He—he wanted her. He needed her. He needed her like he hadn’t needed anyone before—had never wanted before—

Amanda stopped beside him and supported her hip against the railings. “All is good?” Rick asked in a rough voice. For a moment, it was hard to speak.

She nodded. “Yeah, they’re still sleeping. Came to check on you—” she said, as if there was _still_ a need to explain herself for seeking him out. “When do you think they will start those interviews?” she asked quickly in the brief silence following her statement.

Rick shook his head. “I don’t know—” he answered. “Aaron said in the morning. The lookouts just left—” He tilted his head to motion around. “I guess he will come soon.”

Looking around, too, Amanda narrowed her eyes, a pinch settling over her brows. “It’s too early. We need time. Settle down. Clean ourselves up a bit…” she remarked as her eyes turned to him—towards his beard. “We look like cutthroats."

Rick let out a low scoff. There they were. “I don’t care. I’m not going to be caught up in shower or in my boxers.”

Her expression soured even further. “Why, Rick, you still look like shit!”

“Let’s hope Deanna ain’t in the league of Dawn then—” he muttered.

Rick couldn’t care less how he looked like right now. He wasn’t here to pitch himself as a presentable, profitable…acquisition. He didn’t need to play by their rules. These people needed them, too. They weren’t only here for gratitude. They had their own angles, all people did now.

Though, he wasn’t sure if theirs were going to align with his people. Only time would tell now.

But Amanda was still looking at him with that sour, pissed look. “Why don’t you go and take a shower?” he offered the olive breach, taking a step closer to her. It was the first thing she’d done when they’d found the church. Cleaned herself, washed her face, trimmed her hair—

Rick wandered his eyes over her face and his gaze fell on the half-up ponytail. She shook her head. “No, it’s fine—” she bristled before she turned and started walking inside.

Rick watched her back, a scowl knitting his brows as well, as Carol and Joan came out of the house. They exchanged brief hellos at the screen door. Amanda passed them by quickly and disappeared inside. Both women darted a look at him, sensing Amanda’s mood. Rick ignored them, instead moving from his post and following Amanda inside.

The living area was like a big parlor, and the bedrooms were upstairs. Both houses had three bedrooms upstairs, a small parlor-den on the first floor, a small attic at the top, and a garage in the back. Perhaps the other houses were bigger, but they’d been settled in these.

Arranging the accommodations was going to be…interesting, but that was a problem for later. Rick had made everyone sit tight in the living room of the first house, leaving the second one empty as they stood guard. He wasn’t going to let anyone go astray, let their guards down with the…offerings before he made sure they were completely safe here. Both outside and inside.

How quickly they’d opened their gates and settled them in still made his stomach coil, but that was having to wait, too. Right now, he just—he just wanted to do one thing.

Take Amanda in his arms, go into that small parlor- den thing, and catch a few minutes of peace, her in his arms… He—he needed it. He needed it as strongly as he needed to see his children safe, needed to hear them breathing in sleep.

Rick crossed the living room, making sure to toss a glance at Judith and Carl where they slept in the corner beside Beth and Mika. The kitchen was tucked at the back of the living-dining area, separated by a full wall and door, and he found her inside. The kitchen was the most modern part of the house, which had a strange mix of classic and modern embroidered together. Stainless steel, chromicized and sleek, made the kitchen lean more to trendy. It had a cold, distinctive air, too, not warm as a kitchen was supposed to be. But perhaps it was because no one was living in the house prior to their arrival. With no one cooking, the house lacked the warmth of…a home.

His mother always used to tell him a nice smelling kitchen was what made a house a home…Rick recalled as he surveyed the chilly place.

At the counter, Amanda was checking the sink. She moved the faucet with the side of her forefinger and shook her head as water ran strong and fast. She passed her finger under the waterfall, pivoting her body to look at him. “They got hot water, too, you know?” she asked in a whisper. “Saw it this morning.”

Rick nodded. “Yeah, solar panels.”

Amanda turned off the tap. “Yeah—” she muttered, shrugging.

Rick walked to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. For a moment, his dream flashed in his mind, but the reality felt like a cold, distant echo of that dream. Rick closed his eyes and tried to smell pancakes…

There was only cold now, the chill of a late October morning.

Tightening his arms, Rick brought her closer to his chest like they’d been doing for weeks before dawn each night—under a tree—she came to him after midnight, slipped into his arms and then escaped before dawn…

Rick—Rick wanted to stop now…at least for a while. The implications of their fight from last night were still in his mind, but Rick was tired. And she was so warm…so _alive_ … her pulse under his lips. He was going to face yet another game, a game he didn’t even know the rules to yet. He—he just needed her now. Needed the woman he loved in his arms…

“Let’s go to that small den,” he whispered to her. His lips trailed softly over her neck, as he felt her pulse beating under his touch as he took off his machete with his right hand. “Sleep a bit. I—I need to take a break before it begins.”

She twisted her neck before she roughed out his name. “Rick—”

His lips finding hers, Rick cut her off, leaving the blade on the counter beside the sink as he made her twirl in his embrace fully. He didn’t want to talk. He just wanted to have her in his arms, wanted to kiss her... Turning around, he started moving them. The den was just across from the kitchen, tucked in the corner under the staircase beside the pantry of the house. Crossing the hall quickly, still kissing her, Rick reached around her to open the small room and made them walk inside.

The room was tiny, spartanly furnished. It only had a couch and a tiny folding table and chairs beside the tall floor-length window that faced the backyard with more colorful flowers. Rick couldn’t care less. Catching the nape of her neck to deepen the kiss, he moved them towards the couch blindly and only realized he arrived when the backs of his knees hit the furniture.

He fell backward then, tightening his other arm around her waist to bring her down together with him as his back hit the couch a second later.

He—he just wanted to sleep, rest his eyes for a second, have her in his arms, feel her savory breath, feel her warmth. It was so cold. He was so cold. He needed her warmth. He needed her close—closer. Before he knew it, he twisted them around, and climbed on her…

“Rick—” she whispered, moving her head away from his lips as his left hand went to her belt, and he started unbuckling her pants.

“Rick—” Her hands caught his hand at her belt and tightened her fingers.

Rick snapped his head up. “Rick—” she breathed out his name again. “We—Aaron can come in any minute,” she muttered in a heated whisper. “Carl is just outside—and the others. Judith.”

Rick gazed at her. It’d been weeks. _More_ than three weeks since their last time. Each time he’d tried, Amanda had stopped him. The questions were turning in his mind, he knew she needed time. He knew they both needed time but—but he’d missed her. Missed her warmth, missed being with her, missing being inside her…

The rejection hurt, too, even though he told himself it shouldn’t. It was hard. For both of them. She was still having muscle pain even though she acted like she didn’t. She’d gradually stopped crying in his arms, but her muscles were still feeling the strain. They suffered a lot, lost their home, lost their people. Maggie…

“It’s ‘kay,” he told her, rolling himself off her, but tugging her to his chest. She came willingly like she always did, draping herself across his body, her head on his chest. Rick bowed his head and kissed the top of hers. “Let’s sleep a bit,” he murmured, closing his eyes.

He wanted to rest…just a bit. That was what he’d wanted in the first place. Sex wasn’t on his mind. He just wanted to sleep with her a bit. Amanda scooted up closer to him, looping a leg through his, fidgeting on her side to nestle herself in the best comfortable position. Rick smiled faintly, his eyes still closed. Sometimes she reminded him of cats…coming and going as they pleased. His fingers started making lazy patterns across her back.

Whatever happened, would happen, he told himself. Amanda was right on that. He could loosen up a bit—

A low tap at the door interrupted the thought. Alert, his head craned up as Amanda twisted hers backward, his hand already at his right hip, looking for the gun that wasn’t there. Rick only had his hunting knife and pocketknife now, with the machete left in the kitchen. For some unfathomable reason, they’d let them carry their blades. Amanda’s hand was at her holster's normal spot, too, checking her own.

“Hey, Rick—” they heard Daryl’s rough drawl before the next chapter came from the other side. “Aaron came. He says this Deanna woman wants to see ya.”

Rick stilled. Now?

“It isn’t even eight yet!” Amanda cried out, half drawing up from his embrace. “Couldn’t it wait?”

“I dunno—” Rick imagined Daryl’s shrug. “Aaron said now.”

Rick snickered. “Yeah.” He started standing up, moving Amanda upward in the meanwhile. “Of course.”

Amanda turned to him. “You don’t have to go now,” she hissed, standing up. “Tell him to come in a more decent time—after—after we start looking like human beings.”

Rick shrugged, standing as well. “Why bother? Let’s get it over with.”

She shook her head. “She’s doing it on purpose,” she insisted, blocking his way to the door. “I don’t know what game she plays, but she’s doing this on purpose.”

“I know—” Rick admitted with a shrug. “Let’s go find out.”

She didn’t move, looking unconvinced as she eyed him critically. “You said you wanted to sleep a bit.”

Something snapped in him. “Well, Amanda, I wanted something _else_ , too—” He passed by her, moving to the door. “Want doesn’t always get.”

Briskly, he opened the door and left the room. It took Daryl only a second to understand he wasn’t in the mood, so wordlessly, his hunter friend started walking in the hall. Rick grabbed his machete on the way and looped it onto his duty belt as they stepped out onto the porch. Aaron was waiting with Joan. Rick nodded at him. “She wants to see me now?”

“If you don’t mind—” Aaron answered.

Rick gave him a terse look. “Well, never make a lady wait—” he roughed out as he stepped down from the porch. Aaron followed him.

The house Aaron led him to was at the other end of town, closer to the pond and the community building. As they walked, Rick slowly saw the hints of the life resurfacing as the town slowly started waking up. A blonde girl in her mid-twenties appeared, suddenly jumping in front of them—one of the most beautiful girls Rick had never seen with his own eyes.

She was wearing yoga pants with sneakers with an oversize loose top that draped down over her left shoulder, leaving it bare. In her ears, there were two enclosed C shaped earrings, and her hair was up in a ponytail secured with a hair band. She was tall and slim with an attitude that looked more like it belonged to more of a cozy weekend than the end of the world.

In a way, she reminded Rick of Amanda, a younger, much carefree version of her as Amanda used to run at the prison in a similar fashion before their morning patrols… The thought irked him, a pang of…failure aching in his chest. Amanda—Amanda should look like this, too! It was his job. “Oh!” the young woman gasped, making little jumps, keeping herself warm to jog around the track of the town. “Mornin’, Aaron.”

Letting out a small, barely audible sigh, Aaron greeted her. “Hello, Beatrice. Are you alone today?”

She continued her small jumps in front of them. “Yeah, you know, Clarice—” she replied with a scoff, shaking her head exaggeratedly. “Lazyass. I keep telling her she has to work out more, but she never listens to me!” She paused and turned to him abruptly. “Newcomers?”

Aaron nodded. “Yes. I brought them last night.”

She gave him a big smile. “How nice! There’s so few of us! It gets boring.” She laughed and turned to Rick again. “Hello, glad to have you here—” she paused for a second.

“Rick Grimes—” Rick supplied, remembering his manners.

“Nice to meet you, Rick—” she chirped with another smile, jumping back away from them. “See ya around—” she bellowed out before she turned around— “Bye, Aaron. Say hi to Deanna for me!” Then she started running down the track.

Rick turned to Aaron. The recruiter sighed deeply. “She—she’s never left the walls,” the man explained as they started walking again. “She and her sister were originally from the capital. But her parents used to have a house here. The sisters were here when it started. Their parents didn’t make it.”

Rick nodded. But the way she behaved; it still didn’t make sense. “You said she’s never left the walls,” he repeated, before asking openly. “You mean you got people here who have never seen how it is outside?”

Aaron cleared his throat lightly. “Um. Some of us doesn’t need to—like Beatrice and Clarice—”

Rick narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“They—uh—they, well, Alexandria sort of belongs to them.” Rick faltered in his steps. “Her father’s construction company—” Aaron went on. “The Reese Construction. They built Alexandria. They presold all the houses before the project finished, but the ownership was still with the company. Technically—uh—she’s more like our host. Deanna gives the sisters a bit of slack for that.”

Rick shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that anymore,” he bit off. The girl—the girl was going to end up as walker food if she kept behaving like that. “This isn’t the old world anymore. Alexandria—it doesn’t belong to them anymore.”

Nothing truly belonged to anyone anymore. Rick remembered the katana sword that Carl carried now. Michonne had found it lying around, then Carl had it. But nothing truly belonged to them anymore. It was a world of supply runs now, of finder keepers, of who claimed first—

Rick stopped the line of thought as soon as it appeared in his mind. Aaron’s expression tightened, but he gave Rick a nod. “Perhaps—” the man admitted.

Rick nodded. “You said some of us don’t need to—” he remarked instead as they started walking again. “The others?”

“Uh—some of us aren’t…preferred to unless it’s urgent.”

Twisting his head, Rick gave the recruiter another look. “Aren’t preferred?”

“Deanna doesn’t like to take risks, either.” Aaron said. “For example, you have a baby girl and a teenage son, that makes you entered on the priority list by default.”

“Priority list?” Rick echoed the words through clenched lips.

“It isn’t how it sounds like—” Aaron assured him. “Deanna could explain better, but if something happens to you outside the walls, and she’s left with a baby and a teenager…” The man’s worlds trailed off. “It happened once with a single dad. We got stranded with a five-years old. The Johnsons, an elderly couple, adopted the kid, but it made Deanna scared of another case.”

Aaron cleared his throat as Rick thought about the issue. He figured they had a point.

“Deanna probably will ask you to stay inside as much as possible,” the recruiter mused out loud. “She needs you inside anyways—” the man stopped as if understanding he’d already...explained too _much_. “I’m sure you will discuss it all in time,” the younger man said, closing the discussion.

Rick let it go. He couldn’t afford to think ahead that much. First things first—one step at a time. He wasn’t still sure if this was the place that they would settle in…finally. The town looked good—but Terminus had taught him to beware of the ones that looked _good_.

They stopped in front of another two story house at the end of the left row, the one had a clear view of the pond. Alexandria’s ground had a gentle slope. The house was at the top of the hill, so the view was open and wide as Rick suspected. It also looked bigger than the houses they’d settled them in.

Aaron walked him up the driveway that led directly to the garage, lined with flower beds on each side. They made a little turn to the left and moved towards the wide porch, and Aaron buzzed the doorbell.

A curvy youngish blonde woman opened the door a few seconds later. “Hello, Aaron,” she greeted them, her eyes moving towards Rick. But she didn’t speak to him.

Aaron made the introduction again. “Hello, Denise.” He turned to Rick. “This is Denise. She’s Deanna’s assistant and a psychologist.” Rick remembered Aaron’s words in the barn. He gave a terse nod as he scowled. He hated this interview idea more every second.

Aaron didn’t move as Denise moved away from the door. Instead the recruiter turned to him. “Well, I’ll catch up to you later.” He turned to go as Rick stepped onto the porch.

“Hello, Sheriff Grimes—” the psychologist said, but Rick cut her off.

“I was a sheriff’s deputy,” he corrected.

“Sorry—” she smiled weakly. “Sometimes it gets all fuzzy.”

“It’s okay.”

The woman led him inside another dining-living area similar to theirs, but only bigger, more spacious, and decorated with much more…finesse. “Please, have a seat.” She pointed at the armchair in front of the bookshelves at the other side of the room in front of a large, comfy couch. “I’ll let Deanna know you’re here.”

With that, the younger woman left him alone in the room. Rick made a tour, checking around. At the long dining table, there were open books, along with drawings, charts, and maps. Over one of the charts, he spied a handwritten map of Alexandria. On a quick look, Rick understood it was plans for expansion. His eyes caught a script in Latin, but its meaning wasn’t something he recognized. He picked up a book on construction, and another for medication. Leaving them on the table, Rick went to check the bookshelves.

The shelving was made of a walnut wood spanning from the floor up to the ceiling, running the length of the wall. Rick suspected a person couldn’t even read all the books on the shelves even he tried for a lifetime. The books mostly were hardcovers, some of them were even leather bound. The former owner of the house must be a bibliophile by the look of things. Rick wondered if they would work on it. Knowledge was as important as food, walls, and meds now.

Moving away from the shelves, Rick continued his survey. He padded towards the floor length window and checked outside, and somehow he wasn’t surprised to see the houses they’d settled in clear sight when he pivoted himself in the right direction. Scowling, he put his hand on the machete again, almost drumming his fingers as he leaned his weight on his one leg, his hips jutted—his eyes narrowing—

On the porch, Amanda, Carl, and Beth had joined Daryl and Joan. Amanda was holding Judith again as his baby girl had woken up, too. The others were slowly coming out as well after waking up. He saw Sasha and Bob, coming up with one of the boys from Terminus.

On the streets, there were more people as the fashionable blonde girl made laps on the track. Across from Deanna’s house, Rick saw an elderly couple coming out to their porch, the white-haired man holding a five-year old girl’s hand kindly. The scene disturbed him in way more than he could imagine, remembering Aaron’s words—

Shaking it off, Rick searched the surrounding area more. The bell tower he’d glimpsed before inside the perimeters was more in clear sight at this angle. It would make a good lookout spot to check around. He made a mental note to look for it as at his back, he felt a gaze. Standing still, Rick moved his eyes from the tower and shot a look at the door and saw Deanna Monroe.

Unlike last night, the old woman looked more in her element. She was clad in a comfortable, but expensive looking day suit, a classic pants and tweed jacket, wearing reasonable flats, and her whole look was complete with pearls. For a second or so, she reminded Rick of his own mother, the way her mother looked while they went to Sunday’s brunches with the family. The Grimes had never been rich, and his mother’s tweed jacket wasn’t brand name as Rick assumed Deanna’s was, but the resemblance was still there.

Rick turned his sight outside again. “Hello, Rick—” she called out to him with a gentle, kind voice as Rick watched the outside. “I hope you found the accommodations to your liking.”

He gave out a scoff, giving the woman a look. Walking inside, the old woman stopped beside the camera as the psychologist settled in a chair at the table. “This is Denise. She’s our psychologist,” Deanna made the introduction again. Neither of them interrupted her to say it was unnecessary. “She supervises the interviews.”

Rick decided not to be bothered by it. Whatever would happen, would happen. He was here now. They were here now. His family.

His eyes found the walls as he gave her an indifferent nod. “Yeah, Aaron mentioned.”

“Do you mind if I film it?” the woman asked.

This time Rick looked at the woman fully. “For transparency,” she said, and Rick didn’t buy it. “We also record the interviews—” Rick turned to look outside again, and his gaze found his family.

He waved his hand, his eyes on Carl, Amanda, and Judith… “Go ahead.”

The woman made a full arc to walk around the couch. Rick caught her gaze flicking towards the window, before she gave him a small smile and asked, “Shall we begin?”

Giving his family one last look, Rick walked to the armchair in front of her and sat down. _Yeah, let’s begin._


	2. 'You should’ve just killed them'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While he makes the interview that would determine their fate in the town, Rick gives the town's leader an opinion of the world they live in now. Waiting for Rick's return, trying to figure out Alexandria, Amanda has a moment with Carl.

After Rick left with that clean boy scout, Daryl stayed on the porch. Joan was still there, leaned against the railing, watching Rick leave with a skeptical look, her dark eyes narrowed. Daryl wasn’t sure if he liked the look. Joan was a weird woman, withdrawn, but also brutally open, while still being laid back in a way. Besides Carol, Michonne, and Shepherd, she was one of the rare women who had actually managed to surprise him a few times. There were times in the woods when Daryl suspected she was going to throw in the towel and admit defeat, like the time he’d made her eat a mud snake and then snails, but each time, Daryl was…surprised.

The moment of her hand in his came to him suddenly, but Daryl shooed it away. He didn’t know shit about what it meant, why she’d done it, why he’d done it, or why he had even told her about that childhood memory. His eyes found her again as she still watched Rick walk, her expression thoughtful.

She also did that a hell lot. Watch them, Rick and Shepherd. She swept a look at him, turning aside. “What happened?” she asked. “Did they have another fight?”

Daryl shrugged. If he started counting the fights those two had, he couldn’t get shit done all day. “I dunno. They came out of the den like that.”

“I thought they made up after last night.”

Daryl shrugged, remembering how he’d interrupted them this morning in the den. “They might’ve tried…” he drawled out. Joan gave him a look. “Busted ‘em,” he said, perching in the corner of the railings. “Aaron was waiting.”

He rested his back on the beam as Joan gave him another look. “Well, let’s hope this finishes soon, Amanda gets her shit back together, and starts screwing him again before he blows up.”

Daryl stared. Joan shook her head with a sigh, coming closer to the corner he was perched on. “Now, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed she’s been running away from him like a plague for weeks.”

“Yeah—” Daryl gave her a half nod. He’d noticed, but he had also noticed them slipping away each night after midnight… “But they were—”

Joan cut him off. “They weren’t having sex. _Read the signs_ —” She imitated his tone when he taught them in the woods. “Besides I sort of asked her once. She admitted it. Said it’s too much.” She paused. “But I think she meant he’s too much.”

Too much information, way fucking too much information. He cleared his throat. He didn’t want to know fuck all about Rick’s rom-com melodrama. “It ain’t our business.”

The look Joan gave him back was not one of humor or disinterest. She looked as taciturn as when she’d informed him that she wasn’t going to fuck him to compensate him for their lessons. “But it _is_ ,” she insisted. “They’re all over place. I don’t want them to blow up in our faces. They need to cool off.”

There was that thing with the woman, too. Just Daryl started thinking that she actually had a kind, gentle heart, Joan managed to sound like a selfish bitch.

She reminded Daryl a bit of Carol, too, more like a brazen fire, when she’d admitted that she’d wanted to escape Grady because she was fearing her boyfriend was going to kill her, or she was going to end up killing herself, but something told Daryl that he wouldn’t have been surprised if she killed the man instead at the end. Sometimes Daryl also wondered if Carol would’ve ever snapped with Ed, if things were different.

Joan sighed another time and added with a barely audible voice. “Rick doesn’t look like a guy who would take a breakup well.”

In those words, Daryl felt it, too, as stark as it was, fear. Joan was afraid. She was afraid that Rick would behave like her former asshole bastard for a boyfriend. Darting at her a look, Daryl shook his head. “Nah. Rick ain’t like that.”

“Amanda told me that once, too,” she replied. “But things…escalate.”

“Nah—” Daryl opposed again. “It ain’t the cloth he's cut from.”

She held his gaze for a second before she let out another subsided sigh. “Well, I guess I should trust your judgment on the issue. You seem to be good on that.” Their eyes found each other as Daryl shrugged away the compliment.

He didn’t know what else to do for that, so it looked like the best idea, but then she remarked, “You were right about Carol after all.”

His eyes snapped to hers again. She gave him a small, tight smile. Daryl stared. “So what happened?” Joan asked, turning her head aside.

She had pretty curls, Daryl noticed. Long, almost silky, if they were not caked with dirt, mud, and small pieces of leaves. It wasn’t the first time Daryl had noticed it, of course. He wasn’t an idiot, even though he acted like one sometimes. Joan was a pretty woman. He only didn’t realize what…pretty hair she had until now.

He made a low sound. “Rick—uh—we were talking about the houses. He mentioned Lori,” he explained. “Shepherd heard it.”

“Lori—” Joan asked. “She was his wife, right?” Daryl gave her a half nod, and she continued. “Ah. I guess it explains.”

“Uh.” Daryl shrugged, feeling like he was doing something he never did, gossip about people’s love life.

Daryl never cared. He made jokes, even crude, snide remarks time to time, but he never cared who fucked who even when they turned it into a disaster like Rick, Lori, and Walsh had done before. Perhaps he should have. Perhaps if he did, things would’ve been different. That thought caused him to struggle a bit, but at least there wasn’t anyone else involved with Rick and Shepherd this time to worry about.

“It wasn’t bad.” The words left his mouth, and he was fucking surprised himself before he went on. “She said maybe we could clean themselves first before the interviews. Rick said he didn’t give a fuck—” He paused. “In nicer words.”

Joan rolled her eyes, then shook her head. “But maybe we should. We don’t look very…presentable.”

Daryl lifted a shoulder. “I got nothing to prove.”

Her eyes darted over to him again, and they shared another quick look. Daryl thought he should stop it, because he felt like— Inside, Judith started crying. He twisted his head aside to the screen door. “Lil’ asskicker woke up.”

A brief smiled touched at her lips. “I’m shocked that she actually slept until now.”

Daryl let out a low chuckle as Carol stepped out to on the porch beside them. She looked…refreshed. Over her pants, she had a cardigan, a clean one. 

“By that temper, one would suspect she’s a Dixon, huh?” Carol asked, smirking at him.

Joan missed the hidden meaning of her words, but Daryl didn’t. “Wrong man to make a jab, Carol.”

Carol smiled sweetly. “I _know_.”

Daryl eyed the pink cardigan she was wearing. “Where the hell did you find that cardigan?” he asked.

“Upstairs,” Carol supplied. “There are some clothes inside the closets. Nice stuff. They left it here. The house seems like a getaway escapade for the weekends.”

Daryl tried to imagine how it would be having a house like this as a hole up place. He didn’t say it out loud of course. He only shrugged once more. Carol looked outside. “I wonder if they’d mind us taking a tour,” she mused.

“No one said we couldn’t—” he pointed out.

Carol fixed a finger at him. Judith ceased crying inside. “Right.” Carol turned to the door. “Mika, I’m going out,” she called inside. “Wanna come?”

The little girl stepped out brazenly, holding the doll Shepherd had brought to her as tightly as she always did, but suddenly hesitated at the threshold.

Fidgeting, her gaze cut inside the house. “Can I, Amanda?” the girl asked. Daryl couldn’t hear the answer properly, but when Mika took Carol’s hand with her free one, he understood she was cleared for some expedition. Carol turned to them. “You two coming?”

They both shook their heads at the same time. Carol’s eyes narrowed for a fraction, a quick, fleeting thing before she relaxed. Daryl watched them walking away as they left the porch, still hand to hand. People had started coming out slowly from the other houses. Daryl saw a girl around Joan’s age in sports attire making laps in the track, her blonde ponytail swinging in the wind as she ran…

Joan’s eyes trailed towards the girl, following his attention before they moved back to him. With a darting look, Daryl could swear he saw a touch of scowl at the corner of Joan’s mouth. “Last night—” she remarked suddenly, turning her attention completely to him. “Last night you didn’t want me to come. Why?” she asked.

The question took him by surprise, and Daryl started at her… _again_ … A cross expression shifted over Joan’s face. “Don’t you trust me out there to guard your back?”

Trust her to guard his back? Daryl hadn’t even thought of that. He never had anyone to watch his back, not truly. There was Merle, but Daryl always knew he could never trust his addicted brother to be there for him. He trusted Rick. He trusted Carol, but…

No. Daryl had always been there for them, kept them safe, not the other way around. For Joan, he just hadn’t wanted her…to endanger herself.

Another conversation he had long ago in the prison almost found him, but Daryl shoved it away. “No, you did your part. Bob ‘asn't been doing no shit. It was his turn.”

Joan nodded placidly. “Okay. This—” She gestured with her head. “This wouldn’t change anything, right?” she asked. “Between us.” His eyes snapped up to hers, Daryl spied she was losing her cool attitude. “Uh-I mean what we’ve had—” She paused again, breathing out. “I mean—you—you still want to teach me, right?” Daryl sensed a subtle unnamed fear in the question as he realized she was suspicious he would want to stop. “I can show you stuff, too, if you want. You know how to treat a wound, but—”

Daryl cut her off. “Nah—we’re good.” he assured her simply. If she wanted, she could show him stuff, but he didn’t want her to feel as if she had to, as if she was in his debt. Somehow the notion just bothered him. “It ain’t like I got anything else to do.”

The smile she gave him in return was a big one, and Daryl realized in that moment, Joan also had a very pretty smile.

# # #

Sitting on the couch with Judith on her lap as the baby girl tried to crawl away from her like she usually did, Amanda watched Mika leave with Carol. Mika strolling in this town irked her, but she told herself the little girl wasn’t alone. She was with Carol, and Amanda had to learn to let it go now.

Mika needed Carol, not her. In the ways that Amanda wasn't capable of, even with their last talk in the barn with the older woman, Amanda couldn’t deny that fact. Her gaze fell to her hands, recalling the way Carol made shadow puppets. Judith tried another escape attempt, sliding over her thighs, making those small baby puffs as Amanda held her and gently towed her back onto her lap.

Her eyes darted down, and she checked the rugs covering the hardwood floor. She wondered if they were clean enough to for Judith to crawl on. The room was littered with their stuff, and the floor seemed clean enough. She wanted to try, wanted to see if Judith could manage it. They’d tried it before a couple of times in the woods over their bedrolls. She settled the baby girl down on the rugs. Carl and Beth found her as she did.

They’d been making another tour of the house. Beth gave Judith a look, walking towards them. “You're making her crawl?”

Amanda nodded. “Seems clean enough. She’s been trying for a while.”

Beth nodded. But instead of trying to pull herself up on her hands and knees like she’d been doing all the time when they tried to keep her restrained, Judith just shifted herself upright and sat down on the rug. The cute thing stared at her owlishly.

Amanda smiled, shaking her head. “I swear she’s doing it on purpose.”

Beth and Carl smiled, too. Amanda looked at the baby girl. She was going to have to eat. There was a bit of smoked squirrel meat from last night they’d saved for Judith for the morning. They’d turned it into minced balls. They also had berries, but the baby’s diet was those for weeks.

Amanda wondered if she could go and find Aaron to ask for some food. Or diapers. The diapers that they’d found for Judith in the town when they’d gone to the food bank were finished weeks ago. A couple of times they found baby bags in the cars and once in a cabin, but in the end they had to switch back to the makeshift diapers Amanda prepared weeks ago. There were still a couple of clean ones she washed for the last in the creek. But if these people had babies or toddlers, would they share those supplies, too? Toys, baby stuff?

The thought almost made her go and find out, but she sat tight. She wanted to wait for Rick. The things were tense between them as it was, so there was no need to make it…more strained. Perhaps she just should go and take a shower.

She really couldn’t understand why those damn interviews couldn’t wait until they started to feel like she didn’t know…human beings again? Making them go there when they were like this?

It was cruel. The woman, Deanna, possibly wanted to get a clear image of them as they arrived in the town. Amanda got it. It didn’t make her feel any better. She didn’t need this shit!

Far worse, all of it had started reminding Amanda a bit of Grady. _Let’s hope Deanna ain’t in the league of Dawn._

God! She feverishly hoped she didn’t force Rick to get into another nest of vipers. That tingling she’d felt with Aaron was still inside her, not a blazing alarm that made the hair on her back stood, but that buzz was resonating in her.

She tried to calm herself, trying to reach to the calmness she felt as Rick held her against his chest. But it only made her worse as she remembered how she rejected him again. First a wisp of anger, then stark hurt in those clear blue eyes before he hid it. But what the hell was he thinking? Were they going to have sex in that little room while all their people were sleeping in the living room? While Carl was just beside them! Judith! Beth!

He’d said he wanted to sleep a bit, rest. Amanda wanted to, also. Last night was the first night in weeks she didn’t wake up in his arms before dawn. The first night she didn’t sleep with him. She missed him. But dammit! She wasn’t ready for that yet! She didn’t even know why! His hand went to her belt, and she just panicked again. Panicked about sex! How pathetic was that!

Her eyes roaming over the place, her thoughts from last night found her, what Rick had told her. Amanda twisted her head back and looked at the door, seeing a glimpse of the staircase that led upstairs…towards the bedrooms. _I really can’t wait to spend a whole night with you…_

She whipped her head back.

Nope. Nope. Nope. That was thoughts for later. She was going to cross that bridge when she saw it. Perhaps she was even fretting over nothing. Perhaps Rick wouldn’t even want to share a room with her. He’d just said he couldn’t wait to spend a whole night with her in the same room alone. He didn’t make a specific timeline, didn’t say _all_ nights.

There was Carl, too, who still looked at them with a sour expression like they ran over puppies whenever he saw them together. Nope. They couldn’t do it. Carl wouldn’t like it. And Beth—Beth needed her. Amanda had to be there for her. Beth couldn’t stay alone. She had promised. She’d promised to Maggie she would always be there for Beth. She wouldn’t leave Beth alone.

Yes. She was just being silly again.

“I want to look around—” Beth announced suddenly, standing up. Amanda closed her eyes for a split second, holding back a tired sigh. “You coming?” Beth asked Carl.

Carl nodded and started getting to his feet, too, before Amanda interrupted them. “No. Both of you. Sit down. No one leaves until Rick returns, and we finish these interviews.”

Beth gave her a pointed look. “Carol _did_.”

“Carol is like a fifty year old woman—” Amanda countered. “You’re seventeen. Sit down, Beth.”

“ _Almost_ eighteen!” Beth protested, her voice showing off all of her ire.

“Almost doesn’t make you an adult magically,” Amanda bristled, her tone getting terse, too. For once, just for once, it would be nice if Beth just listened to her without a protest.

All in honesty, it wasn’t only her relationship with Rick that was suffering. With each passing week, the tension between her and Beth had increased. A day didn’t pass before they started bickering.

Her eyes blazing with a blue fire, Beth gave her a cold look in defiance. “I don’t _have_ _to_ listen to you—” the teenage girl seethed out.

The correct answer would be perhaps admitting it, but Amanda didn’t want to. “Beth, sit down,” she repeated instead and tried to find a common ground. “When Rick comes back, we’ll look around. I want to find some stuff for Judith, too.”

“I don’t want to wait—”

Amanda almost uttered out what Rick had informed her, that want didn’t always get but held it back at the last moment. Perplexed, she looked at the teenager, but help came this time from an unexpected place. “Maybe Amanda is right—” Carl remarked, clearing his throat. “Perhaps we should wait until Dad returns.”

Color her shocked, but Carl actually sounded like a sensible child. “Uh—yeah,” she muttered as Beth exclaimed: “You slipped away in the prison on our first day, Carl!”

“Yes, I did,” Carl replied. “But it doesn’t make what I did right.”

Her ire directed at Carl now, turning away from Amanda, Beth slanted a seething look at him and stormed over to Noah and his gang. Carl stared at her back.

Amanda turned to Carl. “Uh—thank you,” she said, not knowing what else to say.

Not looking at her, Carl settled on the rug beside Judith. “You were right,” he said slowly, holding his sister’s hand. “We should wait.”

As Judith started wheezing louder, a smell wafted up. When the baby raised her tiny arms up to them to pick her up, Amanda realized she had pooped. Carl eyed his sister with a squinted look as Amanda stood up and bent down towards her.

Whenever Amanda wasn’t with them, it was usually Rick, Carol, or Beth who changed Judith’s diaper, so Carl really looked alarmed.

Judith almost jumped in her arms before Amanda scooped her up. “It’s okay. I got it,” she muttered, half hiding her face beside the crook of Judith’s neck. Usually when she took care of Judith, Carl also tended to get lost, so it felt a bit weird. It was one of the things that was easier being in the woods, Amanda realized, too.

Being inside the same house was going to make avoiding each other harder. With that thought, Amanda realized how much they’d been avoiding each other. But it wasn’t something she wanted to dwell on at the moment, so instead, she took the baby with her backpack from the couch and started walking towards the bathroom. Her hand felt a bit of wetness under Judith’s bottom as she climbed the first step of the staircase.

It was okay. They had spares. They’d found two sets of baby pajamas two weeks ago in another hunting cabin, not too thick, not too thin, perfect for the climate. Judith still had her faded pink cardigan and blanket from the funeral home, so the clothes weren’t that much of a problem. They’d manage.

When she was in the middle of the staircase for the bathroom upstairs, Carl’s voice stopped her. “Amanda—” Propping Judith against her hip as the baby wrapped around the crook of her left elbow, Amanda returned. “C-can you—uh show me?” Carl asked, giving her a sheepish look. “I want to learn.”

For a second or so, Amanda couldn’t understand what she’d been asked to do, then the next second, the penny dropped. But still for a moment, she stared at Carl, couldn’t wrap up her mind around the idea. She taught guns and knives, how to duck, how to run zigzags, how to block a coming attack. Carl had never even been to one of her classes in the prison. Amanda had never showed him a damn thing before. Now this?

Changing his baby sister's diapers? The idea was so strange, so bizarre, so…mind blowing, she couldn’t help but open her mouth and gawk at him like an idiot. Carl’s expression shifted. “Forget about it—” the teenager brattled. “It was a stupid idea.”

Regaining her senses, Amanda cried out before he made a move to turn. “No!” She paused, heaving out a short, hitched breath. “I—I’m sorry. Of course, I can,” she finished lamely as Carl stopped in his retreat. “Please, come,” she added when he didn’t move.

Carl must’ve believed in her imploring tone because he restarted climbing the steps. The master bedroom had an en-suite bathroom, and downstairs had a powder room tucked beside the den and pantry, but the main bathroom was the first door at the left side of the landing hall. The master bedroom was in the small part of the house, too, at the farthest corner at the right side, facing the bathroom. Angling the bathroom, a few meters away beside the master bedroom, there was another bedroom. The third bedroom was at the other side of the hall.

Three bedrooms, one main shared bathroom, one en-suite bathroom, one powder room, and a small parlor. The thought of sharing of the space rattled her cage again, but as Carl walked beside her, Amanda held on her nerves.

The bathroom was big enough. It had a shower and a large jacuzzi bathtub at the same time, having a luxurious layout. Like the rest of the house, it was carefully decorated with delicate furniture Amanda had only seen in magazines or on TV before. All of the town was the same so far, much like she expected; the luxury lifestyle she would’ve never imagined herself to live in—

Before she could stop herself, the words flashed in her mind. _Lori used to dream_ _about_ _us living in one of them one day._

God, it hurt. It _still_ did, even after what she’d learned, even after everything they’d been through, even after she knew how Judith was alive and breathing now, it fucking hurt, and she fucking hated it. Hated that she felt like this and the fact that she _couldn’t_ help her own damn feelings!

It came like a blow to her guts, a hard, cold stone dropping in the depths of her stomach. That was the life Rick used to dream about with his wife. The life they could’ve had if things were different. What would Amanda have had? Just a couple of meaningless, mindless quickies when she felt herself bothered or bored enough to get laid—and her goldfish.

This could’ve been Rick’s life, but not hers. Never. The truth almost made her drop on her knees and started crying again. Maggie’s words turned in her mind with Rick’s in a loop: _I want more. This isn’t a living. Lori used to dream_ _about_ _us liv_ _ing_ _in one of them one day._

She made a sound. Suddenly breathing had become such a chore, with no breath left in her lungs. “Hey—you okay?” Hearing Carl’s concerned voice brought her out of her semi panic attack.

Amanda breathed out deeply, focusing herself on the tiles to calm down, her fingers gripping Judith tightly. She—they needed time. Time.

She heaved out another breath. “Yeah. I’m okay. Just tired—” she sputtered out. “Couldn’t sleep last night.”

“Me too—” Carl admitted.

Amanda jerked her head in a brief nod. “I think none of us did for real,” she replied as she headed for the sink. “It’s understandable.” She checked the marble surface and felt the cold under her touch before she twisted aside towards the teenager.

“Can you check the shelves?” Amanda asked, gesturing with her head the cabinets on the wall. “They might stash some towels here. The marble is too cold for Judith.”

Carl nodded. “Yeah.” He opened the first cabinet next to him and found it empty. They got lucky on his second try. He took out a soft, sturdy white towel that looked like it was for hair drying. He handed it to her. Amanda shook her head and gestured again at the sink. “Lay it down over there.”

“Now this might be better if we do it in the bed,” she remarked. “But Judith pooped a bit,” she continued with a smile. “Without a proper changing table, things might get a bit…messy.”

She made a mental note to ask for a bassinet or a crib with a changing station for Judith. For the quick tour they’d made in the house last night, Amanda couldn’t see one. Judith needed one. Amanda lay Judith down on the towel after Carl finished his job.

Amanda eyed the shower as well, before she started changing. “Can you check the water?” she asked. “If they have hot water up here, too, we might give her a quick bath for her bottom.”

Judith would like that. They cleaned the baby girl whenever they found enough clean water after warming it over a fire, but it was never enough. A couple of times, the baby even had chaffing from diaper rash, which made Amanda feel like wanting to kill a few walkers in anger.

She wondered while lowering the baby’s pajama bottom if they might also have talc powder or something for baby skin care, at least some kind of oil. She peeled off the wet garment as she gestured Carl again at her backpack. “There are clean diapers inside. Can you pass me one?”

Carl found one from her pack and handed it to her as Amanda threw the dirty, wet pajama bottom onto the tiles beside and half under the sink.

Carl neared her as Amanda drew back a little when Judith was free of her pants. “Okay,” she started with a voice she hoped was reassuring. “I know it looks frightening, but it isn’t that hard,” she continued. “In fact, it becomes much easier after a few tries. I was changing diapers when I was ten or something.”

Carl’s head snapped up at her. “Really?”

Amanda nodded. All in honesty, changing diapers was the easiest thing with the babies. There were far more stress inducing and helplessness triggering stuff, like infant gas, cutting teeth, fever, and the nights after they had their vaccines. Or simply being babies, crying whenever the mood struck.

Come to think of it, given their circumstances, Judith wasn’t even that much of a challenging baby. Amanda had seen _worse_. She had a temper, but she wasn’t a gassy baby. She hadn’t started cutting teeth fully yet, but Amanda guessed that was going to be an experiment they all were going to live through together now.

She started unfastening the clips. They were tiny fishing hooks they’d found. After boiling them in the water, Rick had turned them into the little clips to pin the side of the diapers. Amanda showed Carl how to relieve the baby as clearly as possible, giving him tip notes.

“Admittedly, girls are a bit easier,” she remarked, unlatching the other clip. “With you boys, the risk of getting pee in your face is bigger.” She laughed as Carl looked frightened as he understood her. “So not to take the risk, always cover her bits as much as possible. Though, at same time, you just have to roll with it.”

“Can she do it?”

“If she stays undiapered enough, or if she wants,” Amanda admitted. “There’s no guarantee. Perhaps it’s more like a reflex that they feel when they find themselves free of clothing or diapers.”

“Has she ever done it to you?”

Amanda laughed. “Once—” she replied. “I’m usually quick enough, but well, like I said, it happens to everyone.”

“The first time it happened, I was like ten, I think. It was around my first time,” she started recounting as her hands began pulling the makeshift diaper from under Judith. “It was a newborn boy. Our foster parent was a lady who was pregnant herself, and she couldn’t find any energy to do anything. So we used to take care of the little one mostly. I opened his diaper, and he just peed in my face,” she said, turning her head aside toward Carl, a small smile over her lips. “I was so shocked, I cried a full hour.”

She disposed of the smelly, heavy cloth diaper inside the bathtub’s edge as Carl made a face. Amanda wiped the baby’s bottom with toilet paper from the bathroom. As she tugged Judith’s pajama top up over her belly, she twisted half to the teenager again. “Your father said you peed in his face once—” she commented, still smiling. “Said he was shocked, too.”

“Really?” Carl asked with widened eyes.

Scooping up the baby girl, Amanda nodded. “Yeah.” She jerked her head at the shower. “Turn on the water. Warm. Not too hot. Never wash babies with hot water. They don’t like it.”

“I don’t like it, either.”

“That’s very convenient—” Amanda shot back with a smirk, throwing one leg inside the shower, holding Judith again around inside the crook of her elbow as she took the shower head with her right hand.

Carl arranged the water’s temperature and Amanda checked the spray at the back of her wrist. “Always check the temperature on the inside of your wrist and over your forearm,” she explained further. “Especially with formula and such. If it doesn’t hurt your skin, then it’s safe to give it.”

The teenager nodded. Together they washed Judith’s bottom side as the baby girl squeaked happily. Judith was one of those babies who liked water. Carl bundled her in another towel after they finished.

When she lay Judith down on the towel, Amanda stepped aside and let Carl handle the clean diaper. She warned him twice. The first time was for wrapping the sheet around her too loose. “If it’s loose, it’d seep through her thighs and groin. Would chaff her skin.”

The second time was because he folded her too tight with the clips. “No. This is too tight. You’d give her a tummy ache.”

The third try was the charm. He did it correctly, and Amanda gave him her okay. “Well done. We’re okay now.”

Carl eyed the diaper in the tub suspiciously. “What’s gonna happen to it?” he asked.

“Leave it there—” Amanda replied nonchalantly. “I’m gonna deal with it later.”

Carl’s eyes widened, catching up with her. Amanda wondered what he thought until now. That they’d picked diapers off the trees? “It—I—” He stopped for a second before he concluded. “You don’t have to do it. I can do it.”

They shared a brief glance, before Amanda leaning down, held up Judith again. “No, I don’t,” she replied.

The truth was she didn’t have to, but she wanted to. She’d said once that she genuinely cared for them, and she hadn’t lied. She could do this for any child who needed her help, but there was a part inside her growing, whispering at her that they weren’t any children, they were Rick’s. She wasn’t sure what that meant, so she gave the teenager a soft smile. “Let’s go.”

When they started downstairs, calmed down, draped over her shoulder, Judith started playing with her hair. Amanda thought of the food inside her pack when Carl suddenly asked before they stepped out in the corridor. “Will you start your classes like in the prison again?”

The question took her by surprise as she looked at Carl. She didn’t know. She didn’t have any idea what she was going to do. What she was going to do with her life now. _I prowl, scavenge, kill rotters—_

She shook her head, stopping the mantra. “Uh. I don’t know. Aaron mentioned Deanna would appoint us jobs,” she replied, deflecting the question. “I don’t know what she would want me to do.”

It wasn’t a lie, although she had a very educational guess what she would be entitled to in the end. Doing legwork, like she had always done. Take watches, go on patrols, participate in supply runs, kill rotters, take out the trash…all the usual stuff.

She was a cop. That was her job. Serve and protect. She was a foot soldier. They gave her orders, and Amanda saw them done. Amanda Shepherd got shit done, no questions asked. There was a reason why _even_ Gorman wanted her back in the end.

But none of it gave her a clear answer what she _wanted_ _to_ do. She would say she would like to train people, but she didn’t know. She felt like she needed to train herself, too. She’d fucked up big time after the prison. Total uselessness. The helplessness she felt in the woods alone when they thought Rick had sacrificed himself to save them—

The despair in the depths of her stomach, or how she couldn’t do shit when they _claimed_ Beth and forced Carl on her. She could _never_ let that happen again. They weren’t safe. No one was ever safe. _Never take anything for granted._

Her thoughts started twirling away, and shaking her head, she pushed herself out of it. She breathed out and turned to Carl. “Why do you ask?”

Carl shrugged, leaning over the staircase’s railings. “I don’t know. If you start again, I thought I might join up this time.”

The thought gave her another panic, much like she’d felt first when he asked her to show him how to diaper the baby, only tenfold worse. She swallowed. “I—I don’t know,” she muttered. “It’s too early to talk now,” she went on, deflecting again. “We talk about it later, ‘kay?”

Carl nodded.

Without any further talk, they fed Judith, then left the living room when it became crowded as Judith started making a fuss. Beth joined them this time, still giving her a cold shoulder after their last bickering. Amanda pretended not to notice.

Outside, they stood on the porch and watched the waking town. Judith was still with her. Carol and Mika returned a few minutes later. Standing between them, between her people, Amanda tuned out the small talk, instead just looking at the town.

There was a young woman in the streets, slender, tall, beautiful, her hair fully up in a ponytail, a woman Amanda envied strongly. Though it wasn’t because of her looks or the blissful way she looked like she didn’t have a single care in the world. No. Amanda felt jealous because the woman was doing the only thing she wanted to do right now in the whole world.

Her feet barely touching at the red tartan, the woman was running.

# # #

“Were you out there since the beginning?” was the first thing Deanna Monroe asked.

Rick raised his eyes and jerked his head in half nod as he settled himself in the armchair gingerly, wondering what kind of a game they’d started playing. “Yeah—”

“How did you all find each other?” she asked further. “Did you know each other before or—"

Realizing where she was going with it, Rick cut her off. “We didn’t know each other before. Some of them--we’ve been together since the beginning,” he stated with a firm, stern voice that he hoped that would get his message across loud and clear. “They’re _my_ family.”

Deanna nodded as if she did. “Aaron said you were a sheriff’s deputy,” she remarked. “Where was it?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Rick replied. “Who I was, what I was, it doesn’t matter anymore.” He paused before adding, “You should ask who I am _now_.”

How many walkers he’d killed? How many people he’d killed, and why? Those were the questions that mattered now.

The old woman in return gave him one of her smiles again; gentle, kind— _trying_ … It started pissing Rick off. “I’m getting there. But first I want to know who you were.”

“Why?”

The woman’s blue eyes found him before she answered after a brief pause. “I was a congressperson before. From Ohio. My family and I were trying to get back to our hometown so we could help with the crisis,” she started recounting. “The army turned us in one of the back roads. I lost my staff and my detail on the road that day. The army directed us here. They were supposed to come back—” She paused, letting a deep sigh, her words trailing off as she stopped fully. “They never did,” she began a couple of seconds later, her voice adopting the cool placid tone again, collecting herself. “But we had supplies here, so we made the best of it.”

“The wall—” Rick made a gesture with his head pointing outside. “Did you put it up yourself?”

In some places inside the twenty feet tall walls that circled the town, there were shorter masonry walls around three or so feet that possibly had protected the complex’s perimeters before the turn. They were lined with the trees and the height differed as Alexandria was set on a slope. It reminded Rick Shirewilt Estate’s walls that had been destroyed. It was a good thing that Alexandria had thought to reinforce their walls, the only redeeming point Rick had seen with these people so far.

“The walls of the town were shorter,” Deanna answered much like Rick thought. “We thought it would be better if we put up higher ones. The access gate was open, too. We knew we had to secure it. There was this huge shopping mall being built nearby with structural steel beams and plates. My husband, Reg, was an architecture professor at Georgetown University before this started.” The old woman slid over on the couch for a few inches to get closer to his armchair, leaning forward before she gave him one of those smiles again. “And you see who he was before mattered a lot.”

Rick’s eyes found her again as the woman continued smiling as if she had won a victory, and by the look of the things, Rick had to admit she had.

The plans, the books he’d seen on the table, Rick recalled, and realized they were still planning. He tried to read it as a good sign too. “We put the first beams up with my sons. It took days. We had help. People came. It wasn’t easy,” she went on. “In fact, Reg wanted us to use concrete material instead of plates, but we couldn’t. Didn’t have that much manpower, but in the end, we managed.”

Rick had to agree with that, too. “Yeah, you did—” he replied, but shook his head, remembering Terminus, remembering what path the good intentions had brought to them. “But you don’t understand. You have to protect what you have,” he warned the woman. “Because it's all about survival now. At any cost. There are people out there who will do anything to survive.” He paused for a second. “Sometimes even for fun.”

“They look for how to play on your weaknesses,” he continued. “Measure you by what they can take from you. By how they can use you for their own benefit. So bringing people into a place like this—”

“You’re telling me you can’t be trusted?” Deanna asked, staring at him curiously.

The look Rick gave her back was ad stern as his voice. “Last night you took nineteen people in. Sent us to the houses. If we wanted,” he stated in blunt frankness. “We could’ve hurt you last night.”

“My sons kept watches all night—”

“Three men at the backyard, two across the street,” Rick interrupted her curtly. “Two of them slipped off, fell asleep even before dawn. One just slacked off. The other two—” He shook his head. “Wouldn't have been enough. You _shouldn’t_ have let us in. You can’t know if I’m to be trusted or not,” he concluded with the same blunt honesty.

But Deanna smiled at him again with that smile. “Rick, that’s what we’re trying to figure out,” she replied pointedly. “Don’t misunderstand. I don’t trust _you_. I trust Aaron. I trust his judgment. And Aaron says you’re still trying to be a good man—”

“Aaron doesn’t know me,” Rick countered, cutting off her again. “I’ve killed people. I don't even know how many by now.” He’d stopped counting long ago… “But I know why they're all dead. They're dead so my family, all those people out there, can be alive. So I could be alive for them.”

It was the truth he’d admitted to himself under moonlight that night, and hearing himself admitting it to another person, to a stranger aloud felt like a confession, and Rick didn’t know what that meant.

Deanna let out a small laugh, shaking her head, her smile still gentle. “It sounds like I wouldn’t mind being one of your family.”

His head whipped at her after the words, snapping out of his reverie as Rick looked at the woman.

Deanna shook her head. “But you still don’t understand,” the woman continued. “You’re skeptical. I understand that. We all have to be.” She moved over on the couch an inch closer again. “I’m optimistic, Rick, but not stupid.”

“That wall you see—” She gestured at the window. “We couldn’t put it up without help. We needed help. We _still_ do.” She moved closer even further. “Do you really want to know why I let you all in?” she asked, staring at his eyes openly again, as blunt and frank as him.

“Because you need us,” he stated plainly. Because everyone had their own agenda now, the woman in front of him wasn’t different either. But at least she was honest.

Deanna nodded in agreement. “I gave Aaron a job. I told him to bring me a sheriff, and he brought you back. Now tell me, what kind of a leader would I be if I gave one of my people a responsibility and then didn’t listen to him?” She fixed him with another look, but this time there was no trace of gentleness on her expression, no trace of decorum.

Rick held her stare.

“A leader _must_ know his weaknesses as much as his strengths. I can’t do everything myself. I need people to keep this place safe and secure. I’m _not_ stupid,” she repeated again. “I know we’re not prepared. And that’s _why_ I let you in.”

“What happened?” Rick asked then because he knew _something_ did. “What did you do?”

“What makes you think I did?”

His answer didn’t change from the last time Rick had this conversation. “Because we all did something—” he replied simply. “If you want me to trust you, you have to tell me.”

Deanna nodded. “Fair enough. His name was Dave. He was one of the first comers. A big man, with big muscles, with a no-nonsense attitude. Ex-Marine.” She laughed, but it was a bitter one as she shook her head. “Must’ve built the half of the wall together with his pals. Three men. They worked hard. They killed the dead. They did stuff.” She paused for a breath. “I’m not going to lie. The wall wouldn’t have gotten finished in time without their participation. He protected us. Kept us safe. But it got to him, I guess.” And Rick knew the rest of the story. He’d heard it many times now.

“Let me guess—” Rick reflected. “They got unruly, uncontrollable, and you wanted them gone.”

Deanna sighed again. “We have single ladies here. Some of them are even mothers. More exposed than the others.” His face turned stiff. “I learned they started taking advantage of it. Told them to stop. He said they weren’t doing anything—without consent. Told him we had a different opinion on the subject.” She cleared her throat. “Long story short, I asked them to leave. He was so full of himself, he thought I couldn’t do it. W _ouldn’t_ dare.”

She laughed again with that sternness, no trace of gentleness. “We set them up. Had them all tied up. My son—Aiden—he’s the chief of security now—was outside with his team, but we couldn’t wait. We had to act quickly. Aaron, Eric and Spencer—my other son—got them out to the woods.”

Before she continued, the leader paused, and she looked…tired. As tired as Rick. “Things didn’t work out well. They must’ve freed themselves. They attacked Aaron, Eric and Spencer. I almost lost them that night in the woods. They’re good boys, but they shouldn’t have had to deal with the likes of Dave,” she told him openly, then it happened again. Her expression lost its firmness, and that gentle, kind smile appeared. Rick understood the smile was her mask. “You see why I need a sheriff now?”

Rick made a sound. “You should’ve just killed them when you captured them,” he countered, standing up. They should just kill the sonofabitches when they had the chance. Rick had learned his lessons.

A cold chill ran inside the room since the first time he’d come inside. Deanne’s face lost her mask again as she stared at him in the eye. “We don’t kill people here, Rick.”

Rick made another sound and started walking out.

Deanna’s voice stopped him. “We still need to ask you a few more questions.”

He turned around. “More questions?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. “I think I answered enough questions for one day. If it’s about job assignations—”

“We can talk about job assignations later,” she cut him off. “In any case, you should have this week off to cool down,” she continued. Rick gave a brief nod. The downtime would be good for them. “But—” Deanna went on, “Aaron mentioned one of your companions having a…cure—”

This time Rick interrupted her. “That’s a whole different discussion for another day,” he stated firmly. He couldn’t talk about Ford’s mission right now.

Deanna nodded. “I see. Okay. We do it later. But we _still_ need to ask a few questions.” She turned to Denise. “Denise, please.”

The psychologist cleared her throat. “I just need to clear out a few personal issues. Like your birth date, where are you from, your blood type, relatives, etc.”

His jaw squared again. “My birth date, and where I come from don’t matter,” he repeated. “I’m A positive, and I have a son and a baby girl. Carl and Judith.”

The blonde woman nodded, quickly taking notes. Rick saw the paper in front of her was full of notes. “Yes. Aaron mentioned,” she muttered before asking. “No wife?"

His scowl deepened. “No,” he replied. “She didn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry—” Rick gave a terse half jerk of his head as he saw Deanna watching him closely again out of the corner of his eye. “Children's blood types?"

"Carl is A positive like me, but we don't know about Judith."

The psychologist made a quick note, bobbing her head. "It's okay. We've got blood tests in the infirmary. We can find out," she remarked and asked again before Rick could even open his mouth. "No more family members?”

He sent a glare at the woman. Why did he have to repeat himself… “They _are_ my family.”

The psychologist made another note. “Anyone you might want to specify?” she inquired further as Rick fully glared. “We’re open here to any kind of relationship.”

“It’s none of your business,” he snapped. He had nothing to hide. Rick had never wanted to hide anything with Amanda, even from Carl, but he wasn’t going to talk about his romantic life with these people. Especially _that_ one.

Not taken aback, the psychologist nodded. “Is there anyone you would like to appoint as a guardian for your kids?”

If anyone asked that question before Rick would have broken their jaws, knocked out their teeth, but as he remembered what Aaron said, he just shook his head. “No. They know themselves.”

 _She_ knew herself, but Rick didn’t want to tell them that, either.

It wasn’t their business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoyed a lot writing Carl and Amanda, and Daryl and Joan in this chapter, hope you liked it. The begining of this story is really all about adaptation to a semi-normal life again, especially a place like Alexandria, family issues, and such before things get heated again.
> 
> The first day will wrap up with the next chapter, as Amanda also will have her own interview, and they will meet other people in the town. And Rick and Amanda will finally have a talk, and a bit more :) I've already started editing it, probably will put it up within this week.  
> Until then.


	3. 'One way or another'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amanda gets her interview, and meets with other townspeople as they settle more in their first day in the town. When the day finishes, Rick makes up his mind about Alexandria and decides to take action to figure out his complicated relationship with Amanda.

When Rick returned from the interview, Alexandria had already turned to a buzzing hive. The word that new people had arrived last night must have spread fast around the town because Amanda saw them circling around their houses, darting them curious looks.

Under the close scrutiny, Amanda passed Judith to Carl as they were still on the porch. The last thing she needed right now that people assumed her as the mommy, inadvertently creating more drama between her, Carl, and Rick.

She needed to put some distance between them. Standing by the railings, she bowed her head, looking at the flowers in the yard. She really wished they could be done with these interviews.

All this waiting was making her feel like she was going to explode with stress. She raised her head and checked the track. It was empty now. Amanda wondered if she could go out herself and run, too, but running in the midst of these people while they kept circling around them like they were the new entertainment of the town would only put her more under the spotlight.

Amanda was opting to turn and walk inside, safely away from the curious looks just as she noticed it. The blonde woman on the track - she was coming up on the right side. In her hands there was a glass casserole dish. Inside the glass, Amanda could see a sort of cake if she squinted. The young woman had changed clothes, too. Now she was wearing skinny jeans over a loose blouse under a tank top, one side of her shoulder still bare. When she got closer on the sidewalk, Amanda saw her earrings and her necklace and recognized the enclosed C shapes, the logo of Chanel. _Of course._

She made a little scoff, then realized the woman was actually en route to their house. Amanda stared as the rich girl walked up their driveway. Noticing her stare, their new neighbor threw her a big smile.

“Hiii!” All heads turned at her as her energetic voice echoed over them. Still smiling, not taken aback with their stumped looks, the young woman quickly stepped up to the porch and stood on the last step.

“I saw Aaron this morning. He told me about you guys. Thought I’d drop by and say hi—” She smiled again as they all kept staring at her. The woman looked at them, sensing the tense moment, and raised her hands. “Brought you cake!”

They still all stared… “Uh—”

Regaining her motor functions, Amanda moved and took the glass casserole dish. Inside she saw a cake like…tiramisu. She stared—stared—stared— “Tiramisu?”

“I wish we had mascarpone, but well, better than nothing, right?” she answered nonchalantly as Amanda snapped her head up to look at her again.

She must be a few years younger than Amanda, around Joan’s age, and she looked even more beautiful close up. Amanda wouldn’t have been surprised if she was some sort of model or something before the turn.

“Baked it last night,” she continued. “Used powdered milk, sugar, and honey, but our coffee is still good.” Her tone was still having that same nonchalant timbre, as if she really didn’t have a single care in the world, and all things considered, she didn’t look like she did.

A part of Amanda _hated_ it, hated how the woman sounded, how she looked. It reminded Amanda of Beth when she’d come first in the prison, and that reminded her of how much she’d screwed up. Beth didn’t look like this now. In fact, Beth _was_ glaring at the woman now.

Amanda decided to be nice. “Thank you. It—it’s been a while since we ate a dessert.”

“I imagine—” the woman replied, a compassionate expression crossing over her face. “They say it’s bad outside. It must be awful for you staying out there.”

They all stared at her again. “Ya never been out?” Daryl was the one who spoke out this time.

“Deanna doesn’t want us to go out. I was here when the virus started. Daddy wanted us to stay. They were in the capital.” She sighed. “They were going to come, but—I don’t know. Perhaps one day—” She gulped as they elapsed into another brief silence.

“But I forgot my manners! I’m Beatrice Reese.” She pointed at the house across them towards the pond, one of the bigger houses uphill. Somehow Amanda wasn’t surprised, either. “I live there with my little sister.” She turned to Carl and Beth. “You two must be around her age. I’ll send her by so she can take you for a tour,” she told the teenagers. Then her eyes caught Judith, who was still in Carl’s arms.

“What a sweetling!” she cried out. “It’s been ages since I saw a baby.” She looked at Carl. “Can I hold her?”

“Um—” the teenager made an uncertain sound while Rick appeared in the driveway. Too taken with the scene Beatrice had created, Amanda hadn’t realized it.

Noticing Beatrice, Rick halted before the steps, looking at her. Then something Amanda wouldn’t have guessed even if she tried happened. Beatrice turned to Rick and smiled one of those big smiles.

“Hi, Rick—” she chirped as Amanda—as _they_ all stared. “How was the interview?”

Something coiled in her stomach as Amanda frowned. “You know each other?” she asked briskly.

Her bristling tone seemed like it was lost on the woman. Beatrice smiled, cutting a look over to Amanda. “Had a quick chat this morning when Aaron brought him to Deanna. Otherwise—” She turned to Rick again, and her lips twitched up an inch further, turning almost…flirtatious before she added, “That beard I wouldn’t forget.”

“Yeah. It’s a very unforgettable sight—” Amanda muttered lowly, spinning on her heel to go inside. She had other stuff to do than watching women flirt with him. He’d been away like what? An hour? And he’d found the town’s possibly most beautiful woman to make acquaintance with.

She scoffed, crossing the hall for the kitchen. She set the glass casserole dish on the island’s top and eyed the dessert. She wondered if Rick would mind if she gave some to Judith. Ever the suspicious one, he hadn’t wanted her feeding Judith with Aaron’s apple marmalade before without a trial.

Strong, toned arms and callous hands wrapped around her waist as Amanda weighted the idea. She didn’t react as she smelled him, sensing him behind her as if her body knew it was him even before her brain registered it.

Rick softly laughed in her ear. “You act very catty when you get jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Hmm mm.”

“I’m not jealous of that ridiculous ditzy blonde!”

“Mean, Amanda—” He chuckled out in her ear again lowly. “Very mean.”

His lips trailed up over her neck towards the spot that made her shiver. Consequently, she did. “Rick—” she breathed out as his tongue flicked around under ear.

“Rick—” She almost moaned as he pressed her belly on the island fully as Amanda gripped the countertop’s edge. The sounds from the living room were in her ear as the handle of the first drawer poked into her pelvis. There was something else that poked into her back, as well, something very hard. “Rick—”

A cool breeze hit her as Rick took a few steps backwards. Turning over, Amanda saw him passing a hand over his face before he pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing it between his fingers tiredly. “Amanda, we—we need to talk.”

She bobbed her head in a half nod. There was no escape from it anymore. They couldn’t go on like this. “Yeah. After we’re done with interviews.”

Giving her a look, raising his head, Rick nodded, too. “How did it go?” Amanda asked a few seconds later. “How was _she_?”

“Like how we expected,” Rick replied. “Optimistic, but not stupid. Her words. I think I can agree,” he continued. “She knows what we’re dealing with, and she knows they need help. There are people here who have never saw the outside.”

“I know—” Amanda said, frowning, remembering what the blonde woman had said. “Beatrice said Deanna doesn’t want them to go out.”

Rick nodded. “Beatrice’s father used to own this place—”

“What?!”

Rick shook his head. “Yeah. But that’s not the thing. Aaron mentioned she’s got a priority list or something. I don’t know much. Deanna hasn’t mentioned it yet. But she isn’t really stupid. Perhaps a bit…naïve.” He paused. “Do you remember what Aaron told us when you asked him the questions?” Rick inquired.

Her eyes turning a bit more suspicious, Amanda nodded. Aaron had admitted killing in self-defense because they didn’t understand what kind of a place Alexandria was.

“I think I know the whole story now,” Rick went on. “They had those men. They started being a problem for her, started bothering women. Deanna sent them away. They set them up, then Aaron, Eric and her son took them out.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Amanda said at last after a pause. In fact, she wished she would’ve done the same with Gorman and his pals a long time ago, too.

“Yeah—” Rick agreed, resting himself against the wall, then stated, “She mostly wants a sheriff to deal with stuff like this.”

The statement made her ponder on it for a few seconds. “Sounds…reasonable—” She paused. “But do you think she might have other problems as well?”

Rick gave a shrug. “Probably—” he said. “Either way, these people need a wakeup call.”

Amanda imitated his shrug, her eyes going towards the dessert on the countertop.

“I told her instead of sending them into exile, she just should’ve killed the men and been done with it—” Rick suddenly spoke again, his eyes finding hers.

She frowned. “Sending them to exile out there is as good as killing them, Rick,” she said. “You know that.”

But Rick shook his head. “It’s _not_ as certain as killing them, though. She shouldn’t have taken the risk.”

For a second, Amanda couldn’t be certain if he was talking about himself and that sonofabitch that took what they had, ruined them, killed them - or Deanna. Amanda shook her head and gave him the only truthful answer she could find in herself at the moment. “Maybe.”

It was hard to know these days. Sometimes Amanda became really suspicious Rick would’ve killed Father Gabriel that night if she didn’t interfere. Sometimes she didn’t know. _I warned him._

She remembered the holy man’s regret, and Rick’s words; _doesn’t look like anything to me._ No. It didn’t look like anything to her, either. But Amanda still didn’t want to see any more death. She was sick of death.

She let out a deep sigh. “Deanna—” she spoke, raising her eyes at Rick again. “Is she waiting for someone?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t mention anything.”

Amanda nodded and started walking out. “Where are you going?” Rick called out to her.

“To have a talk with her—” she yelled back as she walked on.

It was about time. She’d dawdled enough.

# # #

Five minutes later, Amanda was in front of Deanna Monroe’s house. It didn’t take long to figure out which house was hers. She followed the direction Beatrice had shown and Rick had tracked.

She rang the doorbell in front of the smaller porch and waited until the door was opened by a man around her age. Amanda vaguely remembered him from last night. It wasn’t the one who had been on gate duty when they had arrived, but his older brother, who had come out to meet them with Deanna. The one who had stationed men to monitor them last night. Adam or Aiden or something like that.

The dark-haired man eyed her critically at the door, his brows pinched. “I thought Mother hasn’t asked for anyone else yet,” he remarked slowly, twisting aside to look inside as if he was listening to something. “She’s still with Denise.”

Amanda shrugged. “Yeah. But I thought I might…hasten the pace a bit.”

Moreover, she would like to take a shower, change her clothes, and think. Just _think_. There was so much stuff she had to think about. The man gave her another look, and a half smirk jerked his lips upward. “Like it fast, huh?” he asked, adding a leer in the words to make sure his blatant innuendo didn't go unnoticed.

As if it was needed!

What was wrong with these people? Why they couldn’t help themselves but flirt with everything walking on two legs, Amanda had no idea. Perhaps they were really bored and they—with their dirty, smelly clothes, unkempt appearances, savage looks really brought new entertainment for them.

A scowl setting in her features, Amanda stared at the man blatantly. He was a handsome man. In a way, he was even more handsome than Rick; much younger, tidier, cleaner, with less…beard, but Amanda wasn’t really in the mood to play.

“Would you mind asking her if she’d be available to accept me now?” she asked as kindly as possible, forcing her tone and her face neutral. “I really would like this thing to be done so I can clean myself up a bit.”

That made the man laugh silently. “Yeah. I bet.” He pulled back from the door an inch. “Come on in then. I’ll ask her.”

Amanda waited inside in front of the door as he climbed the stairs quickly and vanished. From upstairs, she could hear a distinctive voice and a few minutes later, the oldest Monroe brother swept down the stairs, almost jumping from the last one.

He had that buzzing energy oozing out of him, much like Beatrice, only much more filled with testosterone. He also seemed to have some sort of training in his movements, Amanda read it quickly. She wondered if he ever served. Sometimes politicians’ children served in the military to make good publicity. She wouldn’t be surprised to hear it.

“Mother says she’ll be joining you in a few minutes,” he informed her, starting walking in the corridor. “I was going to make myself coffee. You’re welcome to join me until she comes if you want—” he continued as Amanda followed him. Their house seemed a lot bigger than the ones they were settled into, and Amanda wondered how many bedrooms they had. Wondered if it would be _too_ much to ask for bigger houses as soon as they were brought in.

“If you don’t—” Monroe continued. “You can wait for her in the living room, too.”

“Tea would be nice, actually—” Amanda replied, deciding it wouldn’t hurt to make a little poking around, getting her bearings. “It’s been ages since I had some.”

He stopped short of crossing the kitchen’s threshold. “We must’ve sent you food—” He shook his head. “I thought Mother already did.”

“I don’t know. Maybe she did—” she countered. “I was upstairs—” She stopped not wanting to say she was dealing with Judith. “Had stuff. Or someone came by after I left.” She cleared her throat. “It was a bit of a mad day.” She paused again for a second. “Got a cake, though.”

Monroe laughed at that, shaking his head. “Let me guess. Beatrice, right?” Holding back a frown, Amanda gave him a searching look. “Bee _loves_ to make new friends,” the man remarked, his voice laden with not a quite hidden sarcasm. “And she was getting…bored.”

He held his hand up, still standing at the kitchen’s door. “Aiden Monroe.”

Amanda took the offered hand and gave it a quick, but firm, shake, deciding to shrug off the comment about the rich blonde. “Amanda Shepherd.”

His eyes narrowed as Monroe studied her closely. “Would you be that female officer Aaron mentioned by any chance?” he asked as he turned to walk towards the kitchen island.

“Of the Atlanta Police Department,” Amanda confirmed while he turned on the kettle.

Monroe gestured toward a sleek metal bar stool at the island as he took cups from a cabinet. Above their heads, there was a hanging rack that was full of wine glasses under the spotlights. It made her feel like she was in a sort of bar.

She settled on the stool as Monroe slid a white mug in front of her. “Do you have a preference?” he asked, opening a drawer under the island and started rummaging through it. “We got green tea, Earl Grey, a winter mix with cinnamon—”

Amanda cut him off. “Black is enough.”

“Black it is.”

When the kettle started whistling, Monroe stopped it and poured hot water in her mug. “I was ROTC—” the man suddenly stated.

Her eyes cut over to the man, and the question popped out of her mouth. “Still at college?” He was perhaps a decade younger than Rick, around her age.

Monroe let out a laugh. “Yeah—” he replied with a shrug. “I was a bit of a trouble-maker. I was first studying Architecture like Dad at Georgetown University, then switched to Business School, but Mother wanted me to take ROTC program too.”

By wanting, Amanda guessed he meant forcing it on him. Aiden Monroe looked like he’d been suffering from Peter Pan syndrome, still at college in his early thirties. Amanda didn’t say anything, just took a sip from her tea. Even the notion of having tea with a guy was kind of bizarre. She couldn’t believe it was happening, but the hot burning taste over her tongue was unmistakably real.

The man studied her carefully once more before he stated, “I run one of the supply teams. Perhaps Mother will put you on our team.” He laughed. “God knows we need a lady’s touch among us.”

Amanda gave him a look but didn’t correct that by ranks she really couldn’t be placed under his leadership as she had been a fully badged police officer for almost a decade now.

“Might be—” she uttered disinterestedly. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to be on a supply team. She wasn’t still sure _what_ she wanted to be.

“Good Lord, you look very different in daylight than last night—” he bellowed all of sudden, looking at her closely again. “Couldn’t really recognize you. There was a baby with you, right?”

Her back straightened. Amanda took another sip from the tea. “Yes.”

“I heard it’s the sheriff’s—” Aiden Monroe continued.

“Her name is Judith.”

“Pretty name—” he remarked offhandedly. “Have you been with them since the beginning?”

“Aiden—” A gentle woman's voice called out behind their back. “The last time I checked, I was the one who was making the interviews.”

Amanda twisted aside and saw Deanna Monroe in classic pants and a tweed jacket standing at the kitchen door with a smile plastered on her face. “Just making small talk, Mother.”

“Uh huh—” the old woman breathed, and her eyes turned to Amanda. “And you must be—”

“Officer Amanda Shepherd—” Amanda introduced herself again.

“Believe me I was just trying to decide if I might call the sergeant or you next—” the leader of the town remarked with a small, kind smile. “You saved me from trouble.” She motioned with her head. “Well then, let’s start. Come.”

Amanda put the mug down on the counter and stood up. “Thanks for the tea,” she told Monroe.

“Anytime.” Amanda could swear there was a flirtatious edge to the smile he gave her with the reply. She wrote it off, but before she was out of the room, he called out to her.

“Hey, wanna me to fix you something…harder later?” Monroe asked, and the smile he gave her this time was definitely flirting. “Mother still has a good stash.”

Amanda stared at the man like a deer caught in headlights. “Uh—we shouldn’t drink,” she said at last.

Rick wouldn’t like it.

And Rick wouldn’t like her drinking with another guy, would he?

The offer was almost tempting, especially after their last episode, but she forced it out of her mind. She trotted after Deanna and saw another young woman inside the room, waiting. She thought it must be the psychologist Aaron had mentioned. Rick hadn’t said anything about it, but then again, they hadn’t talked much.

“This is Denise. She’s our psychologist,” Deanna confirmed what Amanda thought and pointed at the camera behind the couch. “Do you mind if we film it?” she asked.

Amanda narrowed her eyes. So they also filmed the interviews? Watched them afterward, analyzing and measuring their reactions and answers - _them_. She felt like she was getting interviewed by Internal Affairs before they started their dissection.

Her time after she’d killed the drug dealer hadn’t been easy. IA had tried to corner her with questions, trying to dig out if she had liaisons with the drug traffickers, why she was at that dark alley alone, what she was doing there; questions Amanda couldn’t fully answer to their satisfaction.

It’d taken Dawn pressing Captain Hanson to get them back off her case, and Amanda had always hated interviews since her childhood. Forcefully, Amanda pressed down the memories trying to resurface. It was the last thing she needed to remember now.

She flicked a look at the camera and wondered how she looked. Quite like shit, she was certain. She had a man that had made a pass on her, but she wasn’t actually sure if it was genuine, or Monroe was just…testing waters, too. She hadn’t missed how the man brought the topic to Rick and Judith.

Aaron must’ve made a few comments about them. She’d stepped into this town in the middle of the night with Judith sleeping in her arms. They still didn’t act like a real couple, especially in public, but Rick and she weren’t exactly out of each other’s hair, either, so to speak. Maggie had even confessed that they’d taken bets in the prison when they would do it.

The notion, though, made her even more rattled. These people knowing them, talking about them, just like Aiden Monroe had tried. Would Rick be bothered by it? He’d said he had nothing to hide when Abraham and his people joined them, even took her hand walking into the cabin, but Rick was a very, very private person.

And so was she.

Besides, she had a good guess how their…relationship would be read from outside; Rick fucking his subordinate as a stress-relief, and Amanda fucking her way through the ranks, so to speak. God. She so didn’t need to deal with this.

She sat on the large armchair in front of the couch, and moved her eyes around the room, forcing her mind away from her last thought. Her attention piqued with the massive library. She wondered if she could borrow some books. She liked mystery novels. She’d seen Rick reading a couple of times in the prison in his spare time, but she had no idea what kind of books he preferred. Before she could stop herself, the thought brought up another realization, too. She had no idea what Rick enjoyed doing to pass time, as scary as it was having spare time now in their lives.

They’d kept themselves so far apart from each other in the prison, carefully arranging themselves not to spend time together, that even mundane daily life things were a mystery for her. The only daily common thing they’d shared was their morning patrols. She didn’t even know if he liked sugar in his coffee or preferred tea over coffee.

Her moment of another reality strike soured her mood even further as Deanna Monroe looked at her with that smile. “So, Amanda Shepherd—” the woman started. “Are you from the Atlanta Police Department?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Rank?”

Amanda answered quickly, leaving off the farce of her unofficial promotion. “Patrol officer.”

Deanna nodded. “I see—” She paused then the old woman gave her a searching look. “So, you weren’t with them from the beginning.”

Amanda sensed an alarm bell alert her with the statement, especially with the way the woman had phrased it. She shook her head. She didn’t have any reason to lie.

“No. I was in Atlanta until—” She quickly made a math how long exactly had passed since she met Rick in the woods. Something she still couldn’t keep track of. She recalled in a flash the unhesitant, certain answer Rick had given to her when she’d asked him how long she’d been in the prison before the first time they had to have one of their…talks, but suppressed the moment, focusing on doing the math instead. “Around four months ago, give or take—” she said after a brief pause.

“You’re quite a new member of the team then,” Deanna said, her look still searching.

She made a sound. “Time is relative.”

Deanna laughed. “That’s also correct—” she remarked. “How did you end up with them?”

“It’s a long story.”

Deanna waved a hand at the camera. “I’ve got spare tapes.”

“I got lost in the woods one day on a supply run with my colleagues, somewhere around where they were set up in their compound. I met Rick in the woods. I was a bit wounded, so he brought me in.”

There was that expression on the woman’s face now as if she was listening to a love story! Amanda felt a blush rising to her cheeks and tried to calm down her feelings. “Then you stayed with them?” she probed further.

“Eventually.”

Deanna’s clear blue eyes found hers. “You seem very close—”

Amanda read all the hidden meanings in it. She looked away. “We’ve been through a lot together.”

“Aaron said you wanted to come,” Deanna stated after a brief pause.

Amanda remembered her yelling in the barn. She knew she shouldn’t have done it. She _knew_. “Yeah—” she answered, putting a deliberate disinterest in her voice. “We need a place.”

“Rick doesn’t look like he’s keen on the idea—” the old woman commented further. “He doesn’t trust us.”

“Rick isn’t a _very_ trusting person,” she forced herself to reply absently, twisting her head away from the woman again towards the window. This was just what she’d been expecting; talks ending up coming to Rick, Rick, Rick…

“He told me today I shouldn’t let you in,” Deanna remarked. “Should keep our gates close.”

“Well, that’s the thing with Rick—” Amanda sighed deeply, turning back to the woman. “You’ll see.”

“See what?”

“Most of the time, Rick is right even when he’s wrong.” She paused. “I know it’s very annoying. I’m still trying to make my peace with it, too,” she confessed after a beat.

“Amanda—” Deanna called out to her, moving an inch over the couch. “Are you together with him?” she asked openly. “Aaron wasn’t sure of it.”

This time she turned her attention on the woman fully, staring coldly. “It’s none of your business.”

“Funny it’s the same thing Rick said when Denise asked him if there’s a relationship he wants to specify for his file.”

“His file?” Amanda asked, ignoring the other part.

“Yes, we file a dossier for each candidate for basic information,” the old woman gestured at the psychologist whom Amanda had been ignoring through the whole interview. After each session with Internal Affairs, she was also sent to the force’s psychiatrist until she was cleared off for active duty again. Those sessions—well, they were even worse than the IA interviews. There were notes in front of the woman, and Amanda hated to think what those would be about.

“Birth date, place of birth, residency before the turn, your blood type, relatives,” Deanna continued. “You see, you say it isn’t our business, but it actually is. I was thinking of making you his partner as you both served for justice and order. But I need to be sure you’ll play along nicely if I did.”

With the cat out of the bag, Amanda knew she was cornered. “We’re together,” she admitted. “We can’t be partners. We have…uh-stuff to work out,” she went on, and holding back a sigh, spilled the beans. “It happened when we were out. Better that you keep us apart work-wise.”

They couldn’t take the risk. She didn’t want to fuck up, endanger anyone just because Rick and she couldn’t play along nicely, as Deanna had phrased it.

The old woman nodded as if she came to the same conclusion, too. “Sounds astute.” She cleared her throat and leaned back in her seat again. “So what would we do with _you_?” she asked, her lips pulling out with a small, kind smile again. “What were you doing before?”

Amanda shrugged. “The usual: prowl the perimeters, scavenge on the hunts, kill rotters.” She paused. “Bear this world. Live by my code.”

“Your code?”

“Yeah. Kill the dead, don’t hurt the living unless they try to hurt us or the others.”

Deanna nodded slowly. “It’s a damn good code.”

“It is.”

“I guess then I have to figure out a way for you to live by your code and do some work,” Deanna commented further with her smile. “My husband and I—we have so many plans for this place. We both want a community where children can grow up in a safe environment. Without hunger. Without fear. Without death.”

Amanda inhaled slowly, somehow the words vibrating in her. Without hunger. Without fear. Without death. Like Rick, that was all she wanted for her…people, as well. For Beth, for Judith, for Carl…for all of them. “I’m glad to hear that,” she said. “That’s what we want, too.”

“I know.” The older woman gave her a look. “I think you can help us achieve those dreams, Officer Shepherd.”

Amanda swallowed. “In the prison—the place we used to have before we lost it, I was trying to teach people how to survive. Protect themselves. I can still do it, I guess. Rick can help, too, if anyone wants to learn. And your son mentioned he wouldn’t mind a…lady among them. I can go on runs, take watches, too.” She shook her shoulders. “I don’t know.”

She just didn’t. Her eyes turned to the old woman once more. Deanna was looking at her in careful consideration. “We can talk about it later in detail,” she said after a while. “I fear we must learn a few things first, yes.”

Amanda shrugged before she answered in the same way she’d done to Rick months ago. “Luck runs out.”

A laughter came out from Deanna. “I’m a good poker player. I don’t trust luck.”

Amanda laughed back lowly. “Me neither. It’s a fickle thing.”

“We still need you to answer the basic questions.”

“I’m thirty years old, born in August,” she answered without a fuss. “Blood type is B positive. I’m not related to anyone by blood, but I’m the guardian of a teenage girl. Name is Beth Greene. In fact, you can even say we’re blood-related,” she corrected. “It’s her blood that I have in my veins. She supplied me with her blood when I was shot.”

After she finished, Deanna did something Amanda couldn’t have guessed. The woman reached out and turned off the camera. “I can listen if you want to share.”

Amanda gave the woman another look. “Maybe another time. My people are waiting. The earlier we’re done with these interviews, the better.” She paused, her expression getting cross as she remembered. “There’re still hay and dung in my hair.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

She shrugged again. “It appears you couldn’t wait to meet us,” she clipped snidely, standing up, but Deanna stopped her before she could leave.

“Aaron mentioned something about a cure,” the woman remarked. “Rick said it’s a discussion for another time. What’s it?”

Briefly, halting at the threshold of the living room, Amanda wondered if she’d been really played; that the woman was really going to use her as a bridge between herself and Rick.

The notion made her frown. “What did you hear?” she asked briskly, but still gave her the details.

“Abraham has a scientist with him. He thinks he might devise a cure, at least to stop the infection. He was trying to get Eugene to D.C when we met. We wanted to check around. We were talking about going to Arlington, to check the Pentagon. Abraham will certainly want to do that and will ask your participation,” she concluded. “For further information, you have to talk to him.”

“And you. What do you think about it?” Deanna asked. “Do you still want to go?”

“I don’t know—” She gave the woman a closed lip smile before she turned around. “It’s a discussion for another time.”

As she walked away, Amanda heard the woman laugh behind her back.

# # #

By the time, Amanda came back, the porch was deserted. She pushed open the screen door, but before she walked inside, she stopped at the threshold. Beside the door, over by the coat stand, there were shoes and boots. Even Rick’s sturdy cowboy boots.

The scene almost made her gag as a tight lump sat in her throat. She couldn’t even remember the last time she took her boots off to relax. In the prison and Grady, she took them off before she went to bed, but in the woods, even that wasn’t an option easily.

Amanda bent down and took off her combat boots, carefully tucking her boot knife inside one of them before she walked in the corridor only in her socks. They all were still on the first floor, scattered in the living room.

No one had made a move to go upstairs. Hell, like her, no one even made a move for the bathroom, it seemed, judging by the look of them, but they were all without their boots.

_We both want a community where children can grow up in a safe environment. Without hunger. Without fear. Without death—_

Her eyes scanned the room. Rick was sitting on the floor on the rugs with Judith, his back rested against the couch. He was playing with the baby girl as Glenn sat a few feet away from them with Carol, Joan, and Daryl. Noah was still with the boys, as Abraham’s clan—

She quickly searched the room—a panic finding her—Beth?

Where was Beth?

She hurried to Rick. “Rick!” She breathed out, spinning around the room, still searching... “Where’s Beth?”

Reaching up to her, Rick gently touched her hand. “Easy. She left with Carl to look around.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You let them?”

“Beatrice’s sister came when you were at Deanna's. There was another boy, too. Ron or something. They went together.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Did Beatrice come, _too_?” she snapped. “Bat her eyes at you?”

His expression soured. “No. She didn’t come. And you need to cool off.”

She sent him another glare. “I’m going to look for them.”

“Amanda—” Rick said slowly, his voice holding back a sigh. “She just bit your head off. Give her a bit of room to breathe.”

“Rick, if I was looking for advice about dealing with acting out teenagers, you would be the last person I’d ask for his opinion,” she hit rather below the belt. Why, she had no idea, either.

His face stiffening even more, Rick turned to Judith, not dignifying her spiteful comment with an answer. Amanda really felt like a bitch. Her eyes turned to the door.

The truth was that Rick would’ve never let them go if he wasn’t sort of okay with it. She breathed deeply, trying to calm herself. She could—she could—

Goddammit!

She spun on her heel and rushed to the door. She just needed to see it with her own eyes. Then she—she would come back. Just see Beth. Then she would apologize, too.

She leaned and took her boot in front of the screen door, and started tucking in her right foot, holding her boot knife as the door suddenly opened, and a woman appeared.

Drawing up, Amanda looked at the newcomer.

“Hi. I’m Jessie—” the woman introduced, her voice shaking as she held up a wooden basket in her hands. Alexandrians seemed to be really generous people, coming bearing gifts but then Amanda remembered what Aiden Monroe had said about food.

“Deanna asked me to deliver this,” the woman confirmed, too, handing the basket to Amanda, her eyes freezing on her knife for a second. Amanda saw the woman’s hands also shook slightly like her voice. “I don’t work for the pantry,” she continued, “but Olivia is on sick leave today.”

Amanda gave a half nod, not knowing who Olivia was, or why the woman felt the need to explain. “Thank you,” she murmured, taking the basket. Looking at her, Amanda picked up the woman’s red eyes, too, as if she’d been crying all night.

“Are you okay?” her cop reflex made her question.

Jessie brushed it off. “Yeah. I’m okay. Deanna said you’ve got kids,” she went on, her voice getting cooler. “That’s why I came really—” The woman even gave her a tight smile this time. “They just passed me the delivery. I teach at the school in the community center,” she elaborated. “How old are the children?”

“Mika is ten years old,” Amanda answered, still baffled the sudden concept of…school. “Beth is seventeen, Carl is fifteen.”

The woman nodded. “Mika can be in my class. Beth and Carl will be in Eric’s,” she supplied in. “He usually takes the teenagers. I’ll send my son to gather them up tomorrow morning.” She opened her mouth, but the woman added before she could make a sound. “Deanna waits for Sergeant Ford.”

With that, she turned and left. Amanda narrowed her eyes as the woman walked rigidly. The next second, she bowed her head and looked at the food basket, her right foot still tucked in the boot. She sighed deeply, pushed it off, and walked towards the kitchen.

She set the basket on the island’s countertop and headed back into the living room. She walked to Abraham and informed him he was summoned. Her eyes turned to Rick. Her moment interrupted and passed, Amanda sat down beside them as Judith half crawled, half tumbled over Rick’s leg to the other side.

“Someone brought food,” she said to start a conversation. Rick nodded tersely, not looking at her. “Rick—” she started, but heard the screen door closing softly again, and a few seconds later, Carl and Beth appeared at the living room’s entrance.

Beth walked to the couch and threw herself on it. “They have a swimming pool—” she uttered as they turned to look at her. “They _really_ have a fucking swimming pool!”

“Beth!” Amanda cried out hearing the swear word, but Beth didn’t even cast her a glance. She’d heard the teenager utter the f-word before a few times when she was without company, but with all of them being present—

No! 

It was wrong!

Beth sprung up to her feet. “I’m taking a shower.”

Amanda sighed, as she reached to Judith over Rick’s leg while Beth left the room. Rick turned to Carl. “Carl, someone brought food,” he told Carl. “Go check it out.”

Carl nodded, standing up and went to the kitchen. “Rick—” Amanda called out to him again. “I—I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He made a sound, drawing his legs up to his chest and placed the baby girl on them. He bounced Judith on his knees, not giving her further attention as Judith cried out happy happily each time Rick bounced her.

“You’re gonna make her puke—” Amanda warned.

He still didn’t pay her any attention. “I told Deanna we’re together—” she blurted out. His swinging ceasing, Rick stilled as Judith softly made baby noises in protest. His neck craned towards her. “She wanted to pair us as partners,” she explained. “I told her it wasn’t a good idea because we’re together.”

Jerking his head tersely in a nod, he returned to Judith. Amanda swallowed. “It’s okay, right? You’re okay with it?”

That made him react. He snapped his head toward her again, completely stilling, his eyes lit. “I’m not going to answer that, Amanda, because I’m tired of fighting with you.”

Her temper firing too, she shot him a look. “Well, she told me she asked _you_ _,_ too, and you told her it was none of her business.”

“Because it is—” Rick said pointedly. “It’s none of her business. I’m not hiding it.”

“Well—”

“No—” he cut her off. “Not now, Amanda. Later tonight, we talk.”

She bowed her head, nodding. “Okay.”

“How did it go?” Rick asked after a while as he settled Judith down, his voice losing its edge.

“Good…I think.”

“Has she appointed you a job?” he asked, then turned to her again before he quickly added, “You don’t have to accept anything you don’t want to, Amanda.”

She swallowed. “No. She was…kind. She wanted to partner us first, but well, after I told her it isn’t a good idea, she let it go. She asked me what I was doing before. Told her the usual stuff.” Rick gave her a questioning look. “You know… I prowl, scavenge, kill rotters - stuff.”

“You don’t have to do that either,” he told her slowly, his eyes on hers. He left the rest of his words unsaid.

Her head turning, she almost slid towards him and nestled herself in his arms like Judith was doing, laying across his chest. Her eyes prickled, and something in her tugged. She bowed her head. “Amanda—” Rick softly called to her.

“I don’t want to fight with you anymore,” she cut him off in a whisper, moving an inch closer to him. She raised her eyes up to look at him.

His gaze holding hers, Rick heaved a deep sigh tiredly. “Amanda.”

“I’m sorry—” she repeated.

Rick sighed again. Carl came from the kitchen and took Judith and went back again. Taking the opportunity, Amanda scooted to him, almost resting her head on his shoulder. They stayed like that for a little while without talking before Amanda broke the silence.

“Uh—has Beatrice come, too?” she asked, with a voice she hoped was sounding innocent enough.

Rick shook his head, silently laughing. “No. She hasn’t come.”

She paused for a second. “I think that tiramisu was for you.”

“No. It wasn’t.”

Her hand touched at his beard. “Either way, you should cut off this ugly thing. I can’t even see your face now.”

A small smile curved up his lips. “Missed it?”

She nodded. “Yeah—” she said, smiling back. “You have a pretty face.”

“I thought I’m supposed to be handsome.”

“Nope. You’re pretty. I like pretty.” Her smile growing, the words left too. “I had a drink, too. Aiden Monroe prepared me tea while I was waiting for Deanna,” she remarked as Rick’s loosened expression stiffened. “He said he could offer me something harder, too.”

He tilted his chin to look down at her. “Hmm. What did you say?”

She didn’t know if he was just playing along, or he was really jealous, but she didn’t care. It just felt good that they were talking—flirting with each other again. “I said we shouldn’t drink.”

“Good.” He paused a beat. “But incomplete.”

She stared back at him. “Is it?”

He nodded. “Uh huh. Say my…boyfriend doesn’t want me to drink with other guys the next time.”

She couldn’t help it. A giggle escaped from her before she covered her mouth at the side of his shoulder.

As his lips brushed over the top of her head, Amanda sensed his smile before he kissed her hair.

# # #

By the time the interviews finished, it was evening.

Closing the shades, they turn on the lamps in the corners. A gentle warm light gave the interiors an almost romantic atmosphere. Deanna came by before dinner, seeing how they were faring. When the woman saw them still huddled together in the living room, she didn’t say anything, but Rick read her gaze still the same.

_When would you trust us, Rick?_

Well, Rick was already half convinced to trust her to be here, accepting the food, but going upstairs and sleeping in a real bed? Somehow, he just couldn’t do it.

How they would share the bedrooms was also a discussion Rick didn’t want to have as of the moment. At least not before he cleared up some things with Amanda.

But they needed some privacy. Their moment after her freaking out for Beth had made it perfectly clear. In that moment, they could’ve kissed and made out, perhaps even had sex again— _finally_. Instead, she just scooted over closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder after Carl left the room for the kitchen with Judith.

They damn well needed some privacy, but on the other hand, Rick still wanted to see all of his family where he could gather them quickly enough in case of an attack. The wall outside would prevent such a drastic attack but—

Rick wondered if he was fretting as much as Amanda now.

They needed to settle down. Have a talk. Spread out in the houses. Start living again. If this thing wasn’t going to work—

No. It _was_ going to work.

He reminded himself about the barn and the promise he’d made to himself.

His children—his family wasn’t going to live through that ever again.

Rick was going to make sure of that.

One way or another.

# # #

When everyone had retreated into their secluded areas in the living room, Amanda knew it was high time to have their talk, the talk they’d been postponing quite a while. There was only Daryl and Glenn outside now, taking watches as Rick was outside on the porch, staring at the darkened town like how he’d passed last night.

Silently, Amanda stepped out and went to his side. He still must’ve heard her though, the way the screen door softly creaked in the quietness, but he didn’t react. She wondered if he was ever going to sleep tonight. Perhaps before dawn they would slip into the den again and try to catch a wink of sleep before another day began.

Rick suddenly caught her hand and tightened his fingers. “Come on—” He tugged at her, his voice almost a whisper. “Let’s make a patrol.”

“Patrol?” she whispered back.

“Yeah. Check out the perimeters.”

She remembered the morning they’d talked about the thing between them first after they made a morning patrol, looking at the rotters behind the fences, telling each other they didn’t want any complications in their lives.

She wondered what they would say now… There were no walkers, too, no snarls, no growls in the background. Everything was quiet.

They left the porch, her hand still tucked in his and started touring the town. This walking hand in hand wasn’t the proper way to make a patrol, but Amanda didn’t care at the moment. Not knowing what else to do, she just rolled along with Rick.

But the town really looked beautiful in its dark, idyllic stillness, almost peaceful. The stars were shining brightly without city lights, like in the woods, moon high in the sky. It wasn’t only quiet, but also beautiful. For a moment, she thought of staying out to watch the sunrise, climbing up the slope, looking east—

Amanda deeply breathed, remembering Deanna’s words, understanding how truly—how utterly she wanted them to be true.

“Deanna said—” Amanda broke the silence with a small voice as they walked along the wall. “She and her husband want a community where children can grow up in a safe environment,” she said. “I think it’s true. I think I believe her.”

Rick let out a subsided sigh before he confessed; “It’s not her intentions that worry me, Amanda,” he replied. “But her capacity.” He paused for a second. “Or her will.”

“She knows that, too—” Amanda countered. “That’s why she wanted us.”

Rick nodded, then stopped and turned to her. “I hope it’s gonna be enough—” he said. “Because we’re not losing this place. This’s gonna work. One way or another.”

She closed her eyes momentarily, breathing out. His words were cryptic, but Amanda didn’t need any elaboration. “I know.”

He nodded again as his eyes moved around and spotted the tree in the yard of a structure that might be the maintenance building of Alexandria. The area was more secluded than the rest of the backyard, the old stone wall of the town lined with trees circling the building like an arc just under the massive steel wall’s shadow.

They headed toward the building silently, something twisting in her stomach. Amanda tried to quell it down. They needed to talk. It was a long time coming, even though she still had no idea what she was going to _say_ exactly—

She just knew they had to.

Just today she’d confessed to a stranger that they were together. Admitted that she was with him. Rick had even called himself her boyfriend. Even though the words were a joke, Amanda knew he meant what he said.

 _I told you already._ His words in the barn before this whole Alexandria business started echoed in the back of her mind, what he told her before they left Noah’s home—Amanda silenced them.

She couldn’t think of it yet. She had to take it slow. She couldn’t jump into another turmoil like they’d done in the woods. She was barely keeping up. They had to give each other time. She wanted to do this. She so wanted to do this, but it felt like they were riding on a roller coaster. Most of the time, it was how it felt being with him.

In the building’s yard, they settled down against a tree.

Raising her head to look at the branches scarcely decorated with dry leaves above them, Amanda remembered all the times they passed like this. The times she slept in his arms, cried, sometimes just lay down, his hands stroking her hair or massaging her strained muscles.

She wanted that. She wanted those moments, more than food, more than water, more than anything in this world.

Rick turned to her after they settled further over the roots. “Amanda, why are you avoiding me?” he asked directly, no hesitation in his voice anymore as he looked her in the eye.

“I know the last weeks were hard for you,” he went on. “But we can’t go on like this.” He paused, and those blue eyes that usually flashed with anger or glinted keenly with a sharp edge, had that sadness, that tiredness she remembered so well. “I—I almost fear touching you now.”

The words pierced through her chest. There was a stark hurt in his tone, a bleak dismay. Knowing that she was the source of it hurt her as well. “I’m sorry, Rick—” She made a move over to him, but he stopped her.

“No—” he refused her. “No. This is not something you can slip around with your elusive maneuvers. We _need to_ talk.”

She blinked. “Rick—” She wasn’t trying to… She wasn’t trying to distract him—

She wasn’t, right? She swallowed. “I want to do this, Rick.” She told him the only thing she knew for sure.

“Baby, I know. I know you want to do this. But whenever you’re stressed over something, you start questioning us.”

“No, I didn’t—”

“Yes, you did,” Rick cut her off, objecting. “You knew, but you still did. You _knew_ what I meant to Deanna when I said it was none of her business, but you still came at me.”

She shook her head. “It’s too much, Rick.” It’d been _too_ much for a long time. She made a sound. She wanted him to understand her, not look at her with those hurt eyes.

“I feel like I’m riding on a roller coaster with no seat belts, drunk and high at the same time,” she continued, telling him at least what she felt, _how_ she felt, her voice lowering even further. “I need to slow down. I’ve never done this before,” she confessed, bowing her head. “I—I’ve never even really dated anyone.”

Rick ran a hand over his face, exhaling deeply, his fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose strongly. “Uh, I’ve figured out that much,” he muttered. “Okay—” He roughed out with another deep breath, raising his head. “We do it then. We date.”

Amanda blinked a few times. “We what?”

“We date,” he repeated firmly. “Do stuff. Spend time together, get to know each other, fool around—you know—”

“Rick—Rick…” She murmured his name, shaking her head. “We can’t. I mean—we—”

“Why not?”

“We don’t have time—”

“In the woods, perhaps—” Rick admitted. “But here in Alexandria?” He shrugged, his eyes wandering around to make his point. “We’ve been here a day, and nothing bad happened so far. Perhaps this is really it, Amanda.”

His gaze turned to her, and a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Remember the amenities,” he rasped out. “Pools, Jacuzzis, cinemas. I can even take you out for a movie.”

She laughed. “This is ridiculous.”

Coiling his arm around her waist, Rick towed her to his chest. “A dinner first, then a movie,” he replied. He nestled her over himself further, his eyes flicking downward to find hers. “I distinctly remember telling you I’m gonna cook you dinner.”

“Now it’s turned into a horror story.” She giggled lowly as his bushy beard chaffed against her jawline.

“Now, officer, play nice—” he mockingly warned. “I told you I’m a good cook.” His lips found behind her earlobe. She shivered at the contact.

“Rick—” she breathed out, getting stiff again.

“Relax—” He softly whispered over her neck. “We’re just fooling around. We’re gonna take it slow,” he assured her, his voice still low, gentle, but firm. “We’re gonna wait as long as you need.”

She half nodded. “I don’t want to screw this up—” she repeated in a slurred breath as his lips moved over the side of her neck that her half tugged up hair left bare.

“We won’t—” Rick assured her as his hand released her hair tie, making her hair fall over her shoulders.

His fingers threaded through her locks slowly as her breathing turned into low purrs with his strokes. She felt herself melting, her strained muscles relaxing as if his admission to wait unlocked something in her.

“Rick—” she moaned, her hands moving up, and she was pulling him closer. She wanted him to be close to him.

“Rick—” she muttered again as he kissed her pulse, his hand sliding down over her leather jacket, slipping inside through the unzipped slit. When it found its way up under her shirt, Amanda pulled him even closer.

His hand cupped the small swell of her left breast just as their lips found each other. His other arm adjusted her across his lap to find the best angle for himself as he dipped his head to deepen the kiss.

Heat simmered in her more with each stroke his hand made over her breasts, and it felt marvelous having his callous palm, fingers rubbing over her sensitive skin, over her perked nipples. How she missed this feeling, his hands over her skin.

Rick continued with his slow, gentle ministrations while his lips moved over to her neck, her jawline, each spot he damn knew well how to make her shiver before finding her lips again.

His kiss was as slow as his caresses, and Amanda didn’t know how long it passed, like always time was so relative with him, but they pulled apart an inch when breathing became a problem again. He gently rested his forehead on the edge of hers as she panted heavily.

“Ya good?” Rick whispered, his rasping voice rough with lust, his eyes glinting as he stared at her. Amanda nodded silently. She couldn’t make a sound. “Do—d-do you want me to finish you?” he asked a second later. “We can do it. Just it. I promise.”

Her head turning, cobwebs of desire clouding her senses, the gentle feel of his hand still over her skin, imagining them over between her legs, Amanda wanted to say yes.

They were going to date. Dating people do that, right? Making out. Getting to know each other better…figuring out each other. First base, second base, third base before they truly did the deed. They could do it. She wanted it. God, she so wanted it. Wanted a release. Of everything. Have that moment again with him.

She wanted it. She just didn’t trust herself with it.

She drew another inch away, breaking their contact, looking away.

“Hey—” Rick called out, turning her to him, touching her chin as his hand came up from under her shirt. “I told you we’re gonna wait. Do you trust me?”

Once more the answer blossomed in her easily. Looking back at him, Amanda nodded. In answer, Rick smiled at her warmly.

Her eyes rose, she checked their surroundings. “But it’s safe?” she asked, surveying the secluded area under the stone wall. “I really don’t want to get caught on our first try again.”

Rick lowly chuckled out. “Well, you’re gonna keep your clothes on this time—”

Her gaze turned to him. Although his lips still holding that faint smirking smile, he looked—well, he looked like how a man who was denied more than three weeks looked like. There was that glint in his eyes, sharp like a cut gemstone. His hair was tousled as her fingers turned his locks further into a mess, his long scruffy beard looking even wilder.

Amanda cleared her throat. “Um—you—uh…you’ll be okay with it?” Her eyes flicked down where she could see his hardness even through the sturdy denim cloth. “I mean--it’s—”

“I’ll be okay—” he interrupted her. “Don’t worry about me.”

“But—”

“Hey, we’re supposed to fool around here—” he chided mocking, shaking his head. “Not having a discussion. I’ll be okay,” he repeated, as his lips found her jawline again. “I just want to touch you.”

 _I fear even touching you now_ … Amanda trembled, but she didn’t know it was because of the words or because of his lips or because his hand crawled down over her belt, and started unbuckling her…

She shivered a few seconds later when his hand slithered under her panties. A part of her felt ashamed how wet she was, soaking, but when callous fingers started stroking her folds like she’d just imagined, Amanda only closed her eyes wrapping her arms over his neck and nestling her head over the crook of his shoulder.

It was even better than she remembered. That one time, their first time when she’d almost fucked it up, having an episode. The memories from that time threatened to spill over her barriers, but Amanda pushed them away, instead concentrating on the feeling. On his fingers, the way he stroked her—the way it made her feel…

She started squirming with soft moans when Rick plunged two fingers inside her depths at the same time. They were kissing open mouthed all the while his fingers slid, stroked, rubbed in a rhythm he orchestrated as his other hand slipping back under her shirt did the same, giving a special attention to her nipples…

Amanda knew she was going to have hickeys again for he’d started sucking her neck again, his bushy beard chaffing her jawline, but she couldn’t bother herself. She just let it, holding on him, writhing pressed on him, her arms coiled around his neck until he brought her to the peak.

She didn’t know how long it took her to tumble down over the line, but when it happened, she felt it coursing through her, her body trembling with it.

Slumping in his arms, she panted heavily. Her arms were still loosely coiled around his neck as gentle shivers passed over her. It wasn’t a powerful orgasm. It hadn’t shattered her down to her core, vibrating in her insides down to her last atom like their last time, making her see the light, but it was…nice. She felt settled in a way that felt…nice.

Rick drew her up and tugged up her pants as she half sat, half draped lazily on his lap. She didn’t want to move. She wanted to…enjoy the moment.

“Ya ‘kay?” Rick asked her, tilting his chin to look at her.

Amanda drowsily looped a nod, draping herself over him further. His hardness was poking at her, but somehow it didn’t worry her. “It was good?” Rick asked further in a rasped whisper.

If it was anyone else the question would’ve made her roll her eyes, but Amanda only made another half bobbing head movement. “Yeah…” she mouthed throatily as she tightened her arms a bit. “Thank you.”

She didn’t know what she was exactly thanking him for, but the words just left her mouth. Overall, this wasn’t exactly how she thought this talk would go. All things considered, it didn’t go so bad, she supposed.

“My pleasure—” Rick chuckled softly in her ear, making her remember how it felt having him inside her as he did that before, his laughter resonating deep inside her, down to her core, sending jolts of hot pleasure down to her toes.

She ached to have it again—to have him chuckle like this when he was inside her, but she didn’t want to screw up, like she always did. She just wanted to enjoy the moment, them like this…

And she wanted _him_ to enjoy it as much as much she did. She raised her eyes. “Was it?” she asked. “Something tells me otherwise.” She darted her eyes at his crotch.

Rick shook his head. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, unwinding her arms from his neck. Amanda started unbuckling his duty belt. He stopped her. “No. Amanda, you don’t have to do it.”

“I know. But we’re fooling around—” she whispered. “Let’s take care of you, too.” She paused, her eyes finding his. “Rick—I—I want it.”

They shared a look, his clear blue eyes darkening, then he jerked his head in small nod.

Amanda drew up in his arms and slid herself over his lap as she unzipped his jeans. Rick raised his hips a bit over the ground an inch. Amanda stared at him as her hand halted over his zipper. “What’re you doing?”

He pulled out a black cloth from his back pocket and tucked it inside the front one. Amanda giggled silently, understanding his…preparation. “Already almost came inside my pants once. Not gonna happen again.”

“Rick Grimes,” she laughed silkily, bending her head to flick her tongue over his Adam’s apple. “Always prepared.”

Rick drew in a sharp breath as Amanda slipped her hand inside his underwear and held him. His eyes immediately closed when she tightened her grip. He tossed his head backward against the tree, his adam's apple moving in his throat as he swallowed with a silent grunt.

He looked so damn sexy, for a moment Amanda almost kicked off her pants and took him inside her. But she wanted to give him a release like he’d done to her, too. Make him enjoy himself without any complications.

Just a couple making out, exploring each other, discovering each other, not that crazy intensity, not riding on a damn roller coaster. Just two people getting to know each other better.

God, he looked so good. Looking at him when they had sex always felt like too much, but not like this. Not when she was merely giving him pleasure. She recalled how he’d ordered her when she held him once before briefly. _Harder._

She curled her fingers tighter and gave him a hard pull. The hiss he let out made something in her throb in response, and Amanda knew she’d just…discovered one of his kinks. The thought brought her an odd pleasure.

Just to be sure, and _because_ she damn liked it, she adjusted her grip and gave him another tug, her back of her knuckles gently brushing over his balls. This time a full groan escaped from him as Amanda smiled.

Her hand started stroking his length in a circular motion as she studied each expression he made, listening to each groan he let escape, her lips trailing the side of his cheeks, his bearded jaw as her other hand vanished into his long curls.

His eyes cracked open and his gaze, glazed like frosted glass, found her. But there was still no crazy intensity in it. “Enjoying yourself?” she asked in a hoarse whisper like in the bathroom, nibbling at his bottom lip as her hand picked up pace.

“Uh—” he rasped over her lips— “Very—” he hissed out. “Very...”

“Rick—”

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m liking this dating thing.”

He chuckled with a low rasp as his hand moved up to the nape of her neck. “Wait until I cook you dinner,” he muttered, his fingers tangling through her hair before he pulled her close for a kiss.

# # #

When they were both settled down, Amanda was again wilted against him, almost limp in his arms, her face half nesting on his shoulder. Rick was still heaving deeply, his body giving small jerks occasionally. This dating thing, Rick was liking it, too, indeed.

Tilting his head, he checked on Amanda. She looked winded down, satiated, her lips half curved with a lazy smile. She looked so beautiful that Rick couldn’t take his eyes off her.

In this way, she really reminded him of a cat, her claws retracted. Most of the time, Amanda reminded him of a cat, her claws put out whenever she wanted to protect herself but calmed down when she realized she was secure and safe.

Rick wondered if he could find her a cat. Amanda would like that. He imagined her playing with a kitten together with Judy, both of them lazily lounging across her lap. He made circles across the nape of her neck with his fingertips that made her almost purr beside him.

She raised her hand and touched his beard across his jawline. “We should go—” she murmured. “They could start worry about us.”

Rick gave her a half nod, but made no move to stand up. Amanda didn’t either as her hand kept stroking his jaw through his beard gently. “We really should get rid of this bush,” she spoke lowly with that throaty voice. “Makes my skin chaffed. Can’t even kiss you properly.” The words almost sounded like a whine.

It made Rick smile. “Will do it in the morning—” he told her simply because how he could _ever_ deny something when she talked to him with that tone, looking like this. “Wanna help me?”

She propped her chin on his shoulder line and smirked at him, raising her head. “I might—” she murmured before leaning further.

Rick captured her lips. It was a lazy kiss, just how they lolled under the tree, relaxing in an idle manner. They kissed playfully with airy, small kisses as she smiled against his lips.

Rick really didn’t want to leave, but Amanda had a point. They should get back to the house before the others sent a search party after them. Rick pulled up to his feet, gently snagging Amanda’s elbow to get her up, too.

His eyes roamed over her again. She looked…well, she really looked like she had had a good time. Her loose hair was even more unkempt now as Rick had tousled it further with his fingers. He was sure his hair was in the same condition, too, remembering the way she held his head, her own fingers tightening inside his locks to bring him closer toward herself wantonly.

The image stirred him again in his jeans as Rick wondered when they could get further into third base… He forced the thought away while they left the secluded spot and started heading back to the house.

They just had a good time tonight, had a bit of a talk. No fighting, no fucking each other senseless in the woods or on a supply run. A bit of downtime, just like they’d tried in the church before things had gone bad…having a smoke, kissing, making out. Tonight was even better. They had to have this. Return to a bit of normalcy whenever it was possible. Amanda needed it even more than him. Then the time would come too—the time he would finally take her to bed.

Right now, he just wanted to have this peaceful moment between them.

Leaving the main road, he made a detour, circling the town. Even if Amanda noticed it, she didn’t make a comment. They walked with an idle pace as if they were strolling in a park at night. She was pressed close at his side, her arm looped around his elbow loosely as Rick tucked his other hand in his pocket.

“Rick—” she called out in a low voice, craning her neck up to look at him. “You won’t cook me squirrels, right?”

The way she voiced the question, her eyes staring at him with that shy, coy look made Rick chuckle out softly again. “No. I think I can manage a bit better.” He thought for a few seconds. “Hmm, I saw a sauce from the supplies they brought today,” he remarked. “How about pasta?”

Her nose wrinkled a bit. “Uh. Sounds…common.”

“Ah—” He cleared his throat, understanding she was expecting a bit more…effort from him. “Hmm, lemme think. How about a casserole?” he asked the first thing that came to his mind that would need more effort.

That seemed to be the right thing to say because halting in her steps, Amanda gave him another look, her eyes glistening. “I like casserole,” she whispered. “Can you do it?”

Well, he’d never done it, actually. But for her—for her, he would always try. “I would try,” he whispered.

Shaking her head, she softly giggled, and Rick really liked the sound. “You’ve never cooked before, right, Rick?”

He paused for a second then admitted after a beat… “No.”

She shook her head again, still laughing with a sigh. As they restarted walking, she twisted half. “I can make you pancakes,” she remarked, slanting a look at him.

Rick felt a lump in his throat. She’d remembered it. His feet halting again, his gaze captured hers fully. His dream started playing in his mind as if a muted movie—

“You must be our new sheriff—” the voice coming from their left side broke the moment.

Their head whipped at the same time towards the interruption, and Rick saw a man—a man holding a whiskey glass in his hand and sitting on a swing chair on the porch that stood at their left side.

The glass’s bottom was licked by amber stain. Rick had an inkling that the contents were in the man’s belly. Even in the dark, Rick could see the flush over the man’s face.

The man raised his glass to them and greeted them mockingly. “Welcome to Alexandria, Sheriff.”

Rick frowned, his jaw setting as his shoulder squared. He pulled himself an inch away from Amanda and took a step forward. “And who you might be?”

Before the man could answer, the screen door was opened, and a blonde woman ushered out, looking nervous. She didn’t even spare a glance at them. “Pete—” she called out to the man instead with a low voice, almost imploring. “It’s getting late. Please, come inside.”

Rick surmised she was his wife as he saw matching rings on their hands. Amanda moved beside him, her eyes fixated on the woman. “Please.” The woman repeated again with the same tone.

The man stood up. “’kay, I’m comin’—” he slurred, staggering in his steps, and waved a hand at her. “You—just don’t start.”

Rick heard low quarreling voices from inside as soon as they disappeared behind the screen door. The outside door got closed too. Rick frowned further at the sounds. “He was drunk,” he stated the obvious.

“Yeah—” Amanda confirmed. “I know her,” she remarked a few seconds later. “She was the one who brought the supplies today. She was odd.”

Turning to her, Rick gave her a look. “How?”

Amanda shrugged. “I don’t know. Just felt…odd.”

Rick nodded, understanding her point. Just a cop hunch, just like Rick had felt from the man. He tugged at her, taking her hand back in his, and they started walking again.

It didn’t matter. If the man gave them trouble, Rick was going to deal with it.

This was it. This place was where they were going to settle down. Rick had become sure of it. It was going to have to work. He was going to make it work. One way or another. There was no other option.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, as I've finished the first day, Amanda and Rick *finally* starting dating, I hope to see you at 2021! :)  
> Until then!


	4. 'We’re taking a break'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the rest of them try to get a better feeling of Alexandria, trying to adapt into their new surroundings, Carl and Beth mingle with their new friends. Amanda decides to settle down Rick's growing anxiety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, happy new year again and all--hopefully this year will be better than the last one, oh PLEASE, GOD!
> 
> I decided to make chapter's title and summaries because my lovely beta does it, lol. She does it so nicely, and I enjoy it a lot, so wanted to try it, too. I'm gonna use a quote from the chapter for each title, and it's gonna be fun to decide on one, I think. Haven't still done it, but will do it for the previous chapters too.  
> Like always, enjoy.

The next day started with relative easiness.

They were still huddled up in the living room, cuddled together like hippies. The thought almost brought a smile to Amanda as she stirred where she was curled up beside Beth on the floor on their bedrolls and the quilts they’d brought down from the bedrooms. Carl and Judith were tucked between her and Rick, with Carl closest to Amanda and Rick's baby girl held protectively close to his chest where she'd been since he came back from watch.

Rick had a habit of keeping physical contact with his children whenever he lay down to rest, as if to make sure they were here with him. Even with her, he did the same after they drifted into sleep, keeping their bodies as close as possible. A few times, Amanda even caught him listening to their breathing, just like that night when they’d come back from the woods after getting Carl back. It was the time that Amanda liked the most, silent and peaceful, touching each other.

Silent and peaceful. It reminded Amanda again of last night and how good it felt.

She stretched a bit, raising her hands where she lay, a smile curving up her lips an inch. It still felt nice. She wondered if the easiness she felt was a remnant of last night, the way Rick had made her relaxed. She wouldn’t mind getting…relaxed a few times more like that. Perhaps even more… But she really wanted to enjoy this thoroughly, this sweet calmness, not rush into it. It was something so new to her, she wanted to experience it fully. Wanted Rick to do stuff for her, cook for her, take her to…a movie. Perhaps they could even make out, forgetting about it.

This was it. The thing they’d always said after admitting they had feelings for each other. Where they could try and see. It buzzed her insides with an energy that didn’t seem adequate or proper, so Amanda tried to quell it down, sitting up—

Her eyes caught sight of Beth.

Suddenly her mood dampened, and she felt like she was doing something she really shouldn’t—like she was betraying Beth. She shouldn’t feel like this!

Maggie. They’d lost Maggie three weeks ago, buried her upon a ridge. They’d wandered in that hell for weeks, spent, that damn vulture circling above their heads, the dead lingering behind them. _Which one of us are you here for?_ Her question echoed in her as Rick answered: _We tell ourselves we’re the walking dead._

The memory made her so sad her bursting positive feelings dimmed in a bleak dismay, like someone covered a light inside her with black tulle. The light was still there under the blackness, but so out of reach. Rick caught her movements as she stood up silently.

“Hey—” he called out to her in a low voice. “Ya okay?”

She gave him an absent, brief nod. “Yeah…”

Rick got to his feet, too, carefully resting Judith on Carl’s chest, leaving the cushioning the baby mission to her sleeping brother. Judith had made a fuss last night again until Rick settled her on his chest.

“I want to take care of this before the others wake up—” Rick motioned his hand over his beard. “Coming?”

Amanda thought of last night and swallowed before she shook her head. “I saw oats,” she declined. “I’m gonna make oatmeal. You, go ahead.”

Without waiting for a reply from him, she turned and trotted towards the kitchen. She placed the oats they’d brought yesterday on the counter and put water into the kettle. She’d never liked oatmeal without milk, but in the supplies she also found powdered milk. There were dried fruits and nuts, too, so it wasn’t too bad. _Beggars cannot be choosers,_ she almost told herself again, but suppressing it, she forced it away from her mind.

Sasha and Joan joined her before the water boiled, whistling. “I wonder where the owners of this house were…” Sasha muttered while Amanda stirred the porridge in a pot. “The house is decorated, but not enough with personal stuff. I wonder if they ever lived here.”

Amanda knew what the woman meant. The houses were lacking any of the personal touches that accumulated when people lived in a place. They were full of furniture, and the drawers had necessities, utensils, and clothes. There were even some photo frames they’d dutifully hid in the drawers, but there weren’t any personal items lying around or outdated newspapers or magazines.

Even her own sterile, one-bedroom small apartment had that kind of personal stuff before, things that indicated that someone lived there regularly, even though she didn’t have any photos on display or in her drawers.

“Some rich man’s escape from D.C—” Amanda remarked absently, remembering what Rick had said about Beatrice. “Never lived here truly, but kept it well furnished.”

“For which I’m eternally grateful,” Joan quipped, giving her a smirk. “I can’t wait to try those beds—” she said further. “When will we start sleeping upstairs?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps it’d be better if we stay close for a while.”

It was still something Amanda wasn’t looking forward to. Joan darted a look at her but didn’t comment. “We’re still not sure of this place.”

Joan only gave a half nod before she started cutting up a few dried figs and mixed them with raisins for the oatmeal. Carol stalked inside the kitchen, followed by Abraham. “Is this…” the big, muscled redhead sniffed, raising his head. “…cinnamon I’m smelling?”

Amanda made a loud sound. Cinnamon. It smelled—heavenly. “Yes, cinnamon and oatmeal.”

“Sweet baby Jesus—” the man muttered as Rick walked in—

And Amanda stared… He—he’d shaved his beard fully.

There was no trace of facial hair anymore on his face, he was clean shaven. His jaw protruded even stronger, more prominent, his jawline looking like it was neatly chiseled. He looked so different without the long, scruffy hair covering his face, Amanda couldn’t almost recognize him for a moment. Even in the prison, he always used to sport stubble, sometimes trimmed, sometimes not, but always there.

Although she had no idea why, something bugged her in a way because she couldn’t be sure if she liked it or not. It wasn’t what she’d meant when she told him to cut his beard. Perhaps her mind just couldn’t work around a beardless Rick Grimes.

“Wow!” Abraham bellowed in the sudden shocked silence, as Amanda also realized she wasn’t the only who must feel like this. The others were staring at Rick in the same fashion, too. He'd changed his brown tee shirt to a denim blue shirt he’d probably found in the house.

“I almost couldn’t recognize you, Deputy,” the ex-soldier remarked before he gave Rick a wicked smirk. “Ha, you really were hiding a Hollywood face under that bush, huh?”

The glare Rick gave the man was enough to chill an entire continent. Amanda perhaps would’ve called his look less…edgier if Rick wasn’t still having that sharpness in his gaze. But no. He wasn’t softer, just…different. Ignoring the sergeant, Rick walked to her.

Her eyes closed momentarily as she drew in a breath and took in his scent, this time only him without his usual extra layers… earth, woods, sweat, and blood. It was just _him_ with fresh soap…mixing with cinnamon. She felt her head turning. “Cinnamon?” he asked like each newcomer to the kitchen, standing at her side by the counter.

Amanda nodded. “You shaved it all?” she asked, stirring the pot, her eyes moving up to his clean-shaven face again.

Rick shrugged. “I don’t know. I was going to trim it. Then thought…why not?” He paused. “It was too long to do it properly.” His eyes searched hers. They looked the same; keen and penetrating as always. “Don’t you like it?”

“It looks different.”

Rick chuckled lightly. “I never used to have a beard before. Always clean cut.”

Amanda nodded again but didn’t say anything because suddenly her chest tightened. Perhaps he just wanted his old self back. She swallowed lowly, words from yesterday finding her again. _Lori used to dream_ _about_ _us living in one of these houses one day…_

She stirred the oatmeal slowly, bowing her head.

They ate breakfast, having tea or coffee along with the oatmeal, and started talking about their interviews. It’d taken too much time yesterday that they couldn’t do it properly, or they just hadn’t cared enough. But it was a new day now.

Her eyes darted to Rick, his new look… Amanda moved her gaze away.

Less than fifteen minutes later, it became obvious that none of them was actually appointed to any job yet. “She wants us to cool down first,” Rick explained as Amanda took another small spoonful of her oatmeal, searching for raisins as she half sat on the stool.

They were still six of them: Abraham, Carol, Sasha, Joan, Rick and her circling the kitchen island, some on the stools, some standing. The rest of them were still in the living room, either sleeping or just resting.

Amanda didn’t like to get too crowded. She even thought of going upstairs and finally take a shower after breakfast. She still needed to look for some sheets to make diapers for Judith. After a thought, she’d thrown away the dirty, makeshift diaper yesterday. She could find some real diapers around here or at least make new ones from sheets. They were too old, much too used now. Or perhaps she could just go and ask Aaron. On the other hand, she also wanted to know what the others had talked about with Deanna. Especially what the sergeant had talked about with Deanna.

Rick was eyeing the man as he took the last bite from his bowl, measuring him, as if he thought the same. Amanda didn’t know how this going to D.C. thing would work now, but she knew one thing for sure, just like he’d told the sergeant before.

Rick wouldn’t want to leave until he was sure the kids were going to be one hundred percent safe after they left. At that moment, Amanda also realized that there might be a good possibility that he would choose not to take the risk. Rick had never believed in the cure, not really. She’d always felt Rick only agreed in the end because they wanted it and because they didn’t have any better option.

And now that they had it… Sasha shrugged, swallowing down her own porridge. “Well, I don’t particularly oppose that.”

“Me neither—” Joan agreed. “Though she told me she wanted me to be in the infirmary of the town. They have a surgeon. I’m to train with him.”

Well, that was expected. Joan was a fully trained nurse who used to work in the ER. It made sense. They nodded. “Bob, too—” Sasha supplied in for her boyfriend.

“I told her about the mission,” Abraham declared. They all turned to him. “She said one of her supply teams is on a long-planned supply run, but when they come back, we might talk about it.”

“When will they return?” Rick questioned, settling his finished bowl on the countertop.

Abraham gave a shrug. “She wasn’t certain. About two or three weeks, I think.” The ex-soldier paused, letting out a grumble. “Although I ain’t sure if we should wait that long—"

Rick shook his head, cutting him off. “No. We have to make sure everything is safe and secure with this place first,” he asserted just like Amanda had expected.

Abraham’s jaw set, but before he could speak, Rosita sauntered in the kitchen. “I think we don’t mind waiting for a few weeks, get back on our feet—” the Latina turned to her boyfriend. “Right, Abraham?”

The man gave a curt jerk of his head. “Aye.”

Rosita made a sniff too. “Is this cinnamon?” she asked. Amanda almost sighed.

“Yeah—” she said, waving her hand at the pot. “Oatmeal with dried fruits, nuts, and cinnamon. Help yourself.”

The Latina padded towards the stove eagerly as everyone started minding their own business; some just left the kitchen, some started doing the dishes. 

“Hey—” Amanda walked closer to Rick as out of the corner of her eye, she saw Joan carrying a small bowl outside and wondered if it was for Daryl. “Why don’t you go find Aaron and ask if they have baby stuff?” she asked Rick, turning her attention to him again.

Her eyes caught his long wet dark curls that brushed his neck. Without his beard, their visibility had become more pronounced, too. “Diapers, clothes, baby products, toys, books,” she went on, her eyes still fixated on his hair. “Perhaps a mini crib—” Her hand shot up before she could stop herself, and she passed her fingertips through his wet locks. They were so…silky between her fingers now, who knew perhaps he’d even used some conditioner. He smelled so good.

She moved a step closer, murmuring. “She’s become too much habituated to sleep with you. Needs her own bed.”

“Yeah.” Rick neared towards her too, his eyes turning a darker shade as Amanda gently started massaging the nape of his neck, his scent filling her nostrils…so good, he smelled so good… “Do you want me to cut it, too?” Rick asked with a rough voice, leaning into her touch.

Amanda shook her head. “No, leave it be,” she breathed out throatily and murmured, “I like it like this.” 

Rick took a step further in toward her. Her hand curled up around his neck. Rick dipped his head as Amanda raised on her tiptoes.

A soft baby wheezing reached them. They both flinched back, Amanda letting her hand drop as she slid a step back and turned aside from Rick. His baby sister scooped up in his arms, Carl crossed the threshold, his face expressionless, only mouthing a small, cool ‘morning’, not looking at them.

Judith just made her soft baby noises. Amanda pointed to the stove. “There’s some oatmeal left,” she said. “And tea.”

Carl nodded briskly, walking over to the stove. Rick cleared his throat a bit. “I’ll go find Aaron. You coming?”

Going to look for baby stuff with him? She swallowed. She really wanted to find stuff for Judith, especially a children’s book to read her, like she had thought in the woods, but... Even from where she was, she could see Carl’s ears straining. And people had already started talking.

“I need to take a shower,” she uttered. It wasn’t a false excuse, either. It was a fact. She _needed to_ take a shower, to prepare. Maybe take a patrol and check out the town more. They still hadn’t done it properly, had been dawdling around yesterday.

As if reading her mind, Rick nodded. “We need to talk with Deanna again. I want to know everything about this place’s security. The watches, the patrols, the shifts. Their numbers. Their arsenal.”

Amanda bobbed her head almost absentmindedly. There were so many things to discuss. She couldn’t even imagine the precautions and safety measures Rick would demand until he was settled down and deemed the town protected enough.

The weeks they passed in the wilderness after Maggie died had only increased the levels of Rick’s paranoia. Amanda wished she could say he was overreacting, overbearing, but she knew better. Her gaze caught Carl and Judith again. “Yeah. After you come back, we round up and go to her.”

The rounding up usually meant a gathering of Rick, herself, Daryl, Abraham, Carol, and Sasha now: a sort of council like they had in the prison. Sometimes Glenn participated too, listening to them in silence, but mostly he still kept to himself.

Rick gave another nod before he walked out of the kitchen. In silence, Carl came to the island and sat on one of the stools, setting Judith across his lap. Amanda circled around the counter. “I can take her—” she said, reaching up to take the baby girl from him. “You eat in peace.”

Carl nodded. “Thank you.”

Amanda tucked the baby girl on her hip and questioned Carl. “How was yesterday?” she asked, trying to make some small talk. “Rick told me you made some friends.”

Later in the night when they’d come back after that rather…weird encounter with the man on the porch, Beth and Carl had already gone to sleep, so they wouldn’t have talked. Amanda had slipped beside Beth then over the quilts and bedrolls, trying to lure herself into sleep. She hadn’t managed easily.

Across from her, on the other side of the kids, she knew Rick wasn’t any different. She knew he was still awake even when she’d finally drifted into sleep. Amanda suspected he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep last night. Rick hardly slept anymore these days. Just stood guard on watch or lay awake until she slipped into his arms. He usually massaged her strained muscles first when she did, then let it go for a little while.

Carl took a spoonful of the cold oatmeal and shrugged. “They were okay.”

“They were ridiculous.” Beth sashayed inside, her lips holding a grimace. “Never seen outside the walls even once.”

There was spite in her voice and enmity that sounded so…unlike Beth. Amanda barely held herself back from pointing out that a few months earlier, the teenager had been much the same.

“Maybe their times haven’t come yet,” she lowly muttered and pointed at the stove again as Beth scowled further. “There’s oatmeal. Help yourself. I’m taking a shower.”

She walked out of the kitchen. Inside the living room, she started looking for Carol to pass Judith to her, but couldn’t find her. She approached Joan. “Hey—have you seen Carol?”

The nurse pointed upstairs with her head. “Brought Mika to the shower—” she answered.

Ah. Well, it sounded like she lost her chance. Her mind briefly went to the sharing again, nineteen people, two houses. Three bedrooms and two bathrooms per house. Not to mention the one was in the master bedroom. God, getting ready in the morning was going to be like hell. The powder room downstairs would take a bit of the load, but there was no shower there. Yet, it was still better than what they’d had in the woods. Nothing.

She flicked a look towards the hall and wondered if she could go and shower in the bathroom in the master bedroom before Joan remarked; “The girl and boy that came yesterday dropped by. They’re waiting outside. They said something about school. Where’s Carl and Beth?”

“In the kitchen. Having breakfast—” Amanda said and turned to go to check it, remembering Jessie’s words yesterday.

The woman must have sent her son before the school like she’d promised. Amanda took Judith’s faded pink cardigan from the hallstand beside the door and draped it over the baby for the morning chill before she stepped out on the porch, leaving her own jacket still on its peg.

Outside, a girl who looked like a smaller—shorter and tinier— version of Beatrice Reese stood with a dirty blonde teenage boy. She was clad in an attire even worse suited than Rosita, a plaid pleated mini skirt, stockings, and such. She looked around Carl’s age, and the boy around Beth’s, sixteen or seventeen at most. “Hey—” the boy greeted her.

“Hey—” Amanda greeted them back as the blonde girl looked at her under her bowed head with a…bored expression as she inspected her long, manicured burgundy nails.

On closer look, Amanda realized the girl was wearing a sort of private school uniform. The plaid pleated skirt was dark navy, and so was the fitted jacket she wore over a white shirt, trimmed with burgundy edges. Around her neck, there was a dark green ribbon bowtie with a brooch, and on her chest, the jacket bore an emblem of a private school Amanda had never heard of. On her feet, the girl even wore black pumps with two-inch heels. Her silky blonde hair was lush and straightened, even down to her perfectly modeled bangs that framed the sides of her forehead.

 _They were ridiculous,_ Beth’s words passed in her mind, but Amanda tried not to let prejudice cloud her judgement. Rosita’s attire was as inappropriate as the girl’s, but Rosita had proven herself quite capable. But they were going to _school_. The girl probably still wanted to hang onto a sort of normalcy in their crazy life. Amanda would be the last person on earth who would judge anyone for that. She was quite obsessively attached to her own uniform.

At least what she had left from it. Only her combat pants, combat boots, her holster, and her boot knife. The rest was all lost now.

On her close scrutiny, the girl’s eyes, mossy green like Amanda’s, moved up openly, and she gave Amanda a look before she flicked her gaze towards Judith. “Carl said he had a baby sister—” she spoke with a sort of placid tone, as if she was really as bored as she looked. “Are you his mother?”

Amanda’s expression stiffened, wondering if the girl was just trying to be bitchy because she stared or was genuinely curious. Somehow Amanda couldn’t decide. “No—” she replied simply.

The boy checked his wrist. “Are they coming or not?” he asked. “My mother told us to pick them up.”

“They are eating breakfast.” Amanda turned to the girl. “You must be Beatrice’s sister.” She couldn’t remember the names. Rick had mentioned them, but she was too caught with Beth to give any notice.

The girl gave an indifferent nod. “Yeah. Clarice—” she introduced herself. “This is Ron.”

Amanda slanted a look at the boy. He looked like he took more after his mother than his father they saw yesterday on the porch. “Why don’t you tell me where this school is?” Amanda asked. “I’ll send them there when they’re finished.”

It was Clarice who answered her inquiry again. “We’re all in the community center—” She pointed with her head at north, then her tongue loosened, she started chattering a little bit more easily. “In different levels. Eric usually has our class. For today, Reg will fill in in his place. Heard he got injured in his leg when they brought you in.”

Her look was questionable as much as her tone, but Amanda ignored it. “Yes—” she brushed it off and started turning to leave. “Thank you for dropping by. I’ll let Beth and Carl know. They will bring Mika too.”

Leaving them, Amanda walked back inside. She wondered if every introduction was going to be like this. She found Carl and Beth in the kitchen and told them their new friends were waiting for them at the school. “I’m not going to school—” Beth shot back as soon as the words left her mouth.

“Yes, you are—” Amanda said. It would be good to her, to be around people in her age. Getting to know new people. Beth always liked people. But the teenager shook her head.

“No. This is ridiculous—” she repeated. “Going to a school—”

“I’m just saying go and see it—” Amanda cut her off, whisking her head away from Judith as the baby girl tried to take a hold of her hair. “They say there’s a junior class for the younger kids. Mika would like it. Take her there. Make friends.”

“I don’t want to make friends!” Beth bit off, raising her voice, and jumped from the stool as the same time Judith mimicked her. The baby girl threw herself aside over Amanda’s crooked elbow. “I want to start training again. When will we start?”

“W-we just came, Beth—” Amanda answered with a voice she hoped was cool enough, hoisting up Judith again in her grip. The baby girl just couldn’t stay put for a second!

“You were solving murder mysteries after a day in the prison!” Beth exclaimed at her face.

Amanda blinked as Judith lobbed herself at her side again. “Beth—”

Without another word, Beth stormed off out of the kitchen. Amanda stared at her retreating back. She might’ve looked very…helpless because Carl stepped down from the stool and gave her a look. “I’ll talk to her,” he told her, and he sounded enough…level-headed. “We’ll take Mika too.”

Amanda nodded. “Thanks.”

“You’ll take care of Judy?” he asked her.

Amanda nodded again wordlessly as Carl left the kitchen.

After that, with Judith still trying to break free from her, Amanda slumped back on the stool Carl had vacated and heaved a deep sigh.

# # #

“Hey—” Leaving the house, Carl jogged after his friend. “Hey—Beth—”

They both stood on the porch, looking at the town. Daryl still must be around the back, as Carl couldn’t see him. A quick peek to his left, around the corner, revealed him. He was sitting on the little steps of the deck in the backyard, his back leaned against the corner of the beams. Joan was standing on the other side as Daryl ate the oatmeal in that quick way as if he’d never eaten anything at all in his life before.

It always amused Carl; the way Daryl ate. His mother always used to warn him not to eat too quickly—his mother. Carl forced his mind away from the thought. His mother wasn’t here anymore. There was nothing left from her now, not even a single photo.

When Carl saw the house, the first thing his eyes caught was the framed photos. He’d lost his mother’s photo again. Judith wasn’t really going to know what their mother looked like anymore. His thought spiraled further, _them_ almost kissing again and that thought brought up _another_ _one_ before Carl stopped himself. His father thrusting in her repeatedly, rapidly against a tree, his hand covering her mouth, his other hand holding her wrist above her head.…

It was a memory Carl would never ever want to remember, but each time he saw them sucking face, he couldn’t help it, the image assaulted him. “This is ridiculous—” Beth murmured angrily, shaking her head.

Carl shrugged. “Yeah—"

“Does she really expect us to go to a _school_?”

“Dad mentioned yesterday that we should check it out,” Carl replied. All in honesty, he felt it was ridiculous as well. “I don’t think they know it as well. Just do it.” Beth shrugged. “Mika would like it, though—” Carl added offhandedly.

“Yeah—” Beth finally agreed with a sigh.

Carl gave her a look. “We going?”

His friend sighed again. “ _Fine_.”

Carl could almost hear Amanda’s frustrated tones in Beth’s voice when she said the word like that. It was funny because no matter how cross they were at each other now, Beth had started sounding much like her. “Go grab Mika—” she ordered him.

Carl tilted the edge of his Sheriff’s hat towards her as he turned. “Yes, ma’am.” He heard a faint giggle behind his back as he walked back inside.

He looked at Mika who sat between Carol and Joan, playing with Judith on the rugs. “Where’s Amanda?” he asked.

“Went to take a shower—” Joan replied. “Are you going to school?”

“Yeah—” He waved over Mika. “They say they got a junior class. Amanda told us to take Mika, too.”

Carol nodded. “Okay. But be careful.”

Always. They were always careful. Carl bobbed his head a little as Mika stood up dutifully. They started walking towards the community center together. It was a large white building that faced the large pond. They’d made the full tour yesterday with Ron and Clarice.

Their new…friends, well, Carl couldn’t decide. They were fine, but sometimes it felt like they were making fun of them. But they were good hosts. They’d showed them everything. The fitness center and swimming pool were inside the center, too. The swimming pool was in the basement as the fitness center was on the first floor. The long windows of the saloon were also facing the pond. The treadmills were just in front of them so you could enjoy the view while you ran. There were a couple of other studios as well, they had seen a boxing studio and some weird stuff Clarice had called as a Pilates reformer machine.

Outside of the center, there was an open patio, and outdoor garden furniture and rows of tables and gazebos were lined up around the ponds in a small groove. In the pond, there were even some ducks. Carl listened to their quacks again, craning his head aside. Tucked on the first floor at the other side, there was the small daycare of the town, too, and its kindergarten. Carl would only imagine Judith’s joy upon seeing the place.

Ron and Clarice were standing in front of the building with a tall, blonde woman. “Hi—” the woman greeted them. “I’m Jessie. Ron’s mom—” she said, “And you must be Carl and Beth.” They nodded. The woman looked down at Mika with a gentle smile. “And you, Mika. I teach the kids—” she said further, holding up her hand to Mika. “You wanna come and meet your new friends?”

Tightening her delicate grip in his hand a bit, Mika turned to him. Carl nodded at the girl. “It’s okay. Amanda and Carol said you can go.”

Slowly, Mika took the woman’s hand. Jessie turned to her son. “Reg will be here soon. Don’t stay outside too long.”

Ron bobbed his head halfway and watched as his mother walked inside. As soon as she vanished, he turned to them and pointed with his head. “Let’s go.”

Carl frowned. “Where?”

His new friend tossed him a look, almost mocking. “Where’s your sense of adventure, Grimes?” he taunted as both he and Clarice started walking around the pond.

Sharing a brief look with Beth, they turned, too, and followed. They circled the building’s backside and arrived at a secluded gazebo that faced the woods behind Alexandria’s great wall with a small view of the pond.

Clarice quickly went inside the wooden gazebo and perching on the deck, she crossed her legs.

Carl’s eyes shifted. Her legs were very long and slim, and the sheer black stockings… Carl couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a woman wearing stockings. The image—the image stirred something in him. He felt himself…hardening. Quickly, Carl turned his gaze away, a heat rising in him. Clarice’s green eyes spotted with dark honey dots turned to him as if she caught his blush.

Ron fished out something flashy of his pocket just at that moment, and Clarice reached out beside him.

Cigarette. Carl understood the next second.

Clarice pulled one from the package Ron was dangling in front of her. “Nicholas brought them from the last run—” she explained.

Carl didn’t have an idea who Nicholas was, but he wondered if the others knew he was bringing teenagers smokes. Ron took one himself, too, before turning aside, he offered the pack to Carl.

He stared at it. Clarice’s laughter ringed in the air. “Don’t tell me you haven’t smoked before.”

The way the girl uttered the words made him feel weird, and Carl reacted. He reached out, but before he could take one, Beth’s hand crossed his, and grabbed one of the cigarettes out of the pack. She pulled it free.

Carl shot her a look. Ron turned to her. “You smoked before?” he asked, putting the smoke in between his lips.

“No—” Beth said. “But it was on my list.”

“What list?” Clarice asked, placing her own between her lips, too. Carl took one for himself and did the same as he noticed her red painted nails were long and round.

“The things I need to do before I die—” Beth answered with a shrug as his hand momentarily halted.

Carl slanted a look to her as Ron leaned toward her further with his lighter to light her cigarette first. “Yeah—” he muttered through the smoke. “Got a list like that myself, too.”

Beth smiled before she took a breath—and started coughing.

Both their new friends started laughing. Carl took a breath, bracing himself, but he couldn’t help it either. He started coughing himself .

“God—” Beth bristled, taking off the cigarette, “This is as awful as alcohol—” she murmured, looking at the lit thing. “Why do you even smoke?”

Clarice shrugged, taking a drag from her cigarette. “I don’t know. Probably because Beatrice wouldn’t want me to.” She gave them a smirk.

They both laughed. “You got a drink, too?” Beth asked, smirking back.

Clarice turned to him. “Carl—” she rolled his name over in her mouth, her voice sounding…silky. Beside her, Beth’s brows tightened. “Your friend’s trying to get us in trouble.”

Carl took a puff from his smoke and managed to hold down a cough this time. “You’ve made us smoke.”

Ron and Clarice laughed. “Guilty as charged,” she muttered, pulling another drag from her smoke, her honey-flecked green eyes on his.

Carl felt himself starting to blush and angled his head, tilting his hat. “That hat—where did you find it?” Ron asked.

“It’s my dad’s.”

“Have you ever killed one of those…things out there?” Clarice asked, looking at them.

They both shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Are they disgusting?” He couldn’t be sure, but Carl picked up an…interest in her voice.

“There are far more disgusting things than ‘em—” Beth slowly answered before Carl did, taking another breath in. He shot her another look but didn’t say anything.

There was nothing to say. She was right. The night under the moonlight tried to come back to him, but Carl didn’t let it. He forced the memory away, but Ron suddenly pointed at Beth’s right hand as she held the cigarette.

“Your hand—” their new friend looked at her wound. “What happened to it?”

Beth dropped her hand and opened up her palm, the smoke still burning at the end of her fingers. She lifted her eyes up at them and smiled sweetly. “Oh, this—” she remarked, her voice sounding almost…airy. “It’s nothing. There were these men in the woods one night—” Her eyes stared at them as her smile froze on her lips. “They nailed me on a car to force Carl to rape me.”

Their smokes forgotten in their hands, their new friends stared at them.

Silently, Carl took another drag from his cigarette.

# # #

The first thing Rick noticed when he walked in Deanna Monroe’s living room again was the man who had offered _something harder_ to Amanda. The next thing was the man’s small, kind smile as Amanda halted briefly in the doorway, Rick at her heels. He scowled, eyeing the half tug at the corner of the man’s lips, while Amanda ignored it.

Monroe’s glance shifted over to Rick for a second as he stood behind her. Rick returned it, placing his hand across the small of her back lightly and lingering for a second longer as they crossed the threshold. In answer, Monroe’s thin lips curved an inch higher. Rick didn’t let it bother him. Amanda—well, Amanda seemed like she’d decided to ignore both of them.

She quickened her pace and stood beside the camera behind the couch. Deanna was at the other side of the camera as Monroe stood by the window. Beside them, there was Aaron, Deanna’s younger son, the psychologist, and an older man Rick hadn’t seen before.

“This is Tobin—” Deanna introduced them. “Reg is covering for Eric in the school today as he rests. Tobin has taken his place. He’s Reg’s second-in-command, responsible for construction and building in the town with Reg.”

Rick nodded. “How’s Eric?” Amanda asked, turning to Aaron. Rick had learned he’d taken to the sick bay this morning when he went to look for the mini crib. Their luck still was holding, as the town had a daycare. They’d found a mini crib, a playpen, toys, books, even coloring pencils, and some other baby stuff Judith had been lacking for a long while and moved them to their house. They’d put them in the living room, but Rick had started thinking maybe they should move upstairs now.

If this was going to be the place, they had to start somewhere. They could still hold watches, but sleeping in the living room, huddled together on the floor wasn’t going to work.

It'd also become apparent to him after last night he—uh—just couldn’t share a room with Amanda yet. That part had become clear, too. They were taking it slow. They weren’t going to rush things this time. He’d promised her. He wanted to spend time with her, like he’d said, without the toll and stress of being on the run. Cook her dinner, take her out on…dates…as much as they could manage.

And, Rick had to be sure. Sure that this place was safe as his family settled down.

“He’s good—” Aaron answered her question as Rick eyed Amanda. Her hair—her clean damp hair - was up again in the half ponytail. She looked clean, she looked good. Her pale, freshly scrubbed skin was still reddened as she was newly out of the shower before they left for Deanna’s house.

She smelled like honey milk body wash and…cinnamon. He could still smell cinnamon under her scent as if after the shower she’d made another oatmeal for Judith. Her scent almost made Rick lose it when he was back from seeing Aaron, but seeing her like this? Wet, scrubbed reddish, smelling honey milk and cinnamon? It took everything not to throw her over his shoulder and bring her up to the bed and have her just right there, waiting be damned.

Sometimes he wanted her so much, Rick really felt scared.

He glanced at her again and noticed Aiden Monroe was doing the same. The urge to put his hand on the small of her back to give the man another message rose strong, but a darting look from Amanda advised him not to. Instead, Rick merely stood beside her. Bowing his head, Monroe hid his smirk that had grown wider.

The asshole looked like he was actually having a…good time. Rick scowled more. It didn’t help that the man looked a decade younger than him, healthier, more in shape, more at ease. His jaw squared. Amanda always felt worked up with this intensity between them, that ferocious intimacy. “Pete has taken him to the sick bay—” Aaron said, breaking through his musings.

Pete, as Rick had found out this morning, was the weird man on the porch who had _welcomed_ him to the town drunkenly last night. Pete was also the town’s surgeon, Aaron had explained. He was also Ron’s father, the boy who had come to give Carl a tour yesterday with Beatrice’s sister. They were living in the house beside Beatrice’s, across from Deanna’s, and the placement of the house had also told Rick plainly where the man stood in the town’s…hierarchy.

His tour and his little talk in the morning had made it quite clear to Rick. The house and the lands they owned got bigger as they moved up over the hill, having a clear view of the pond and the town below. It was unmistakably clear, as was the way of Deanna’s placement of their houses. At the outskirts of the slope, close to the main gate, at the opposite side of Deanna’s house.

They still weren’t one of them. Deanna was optimistic, not stupid. Rick guessed it was her way of making things clear for them, but well, they would see about that.

But first… He turned to Aiden Monroe. “How do you keep this place safe?” he questioned directly.

Aiden Monroe’s head whipped at him. His tone was curt, firm, and Rick was glad to see that it had the effect on the man he’d hoped. The older Monroe frowned. “We take watches—”

“I only saw one man at the outpost when we came in—” he cut him off.

“At the gate duty—” Monroe returned. “There were a few more, too.”

“Yeah—” he murmured, making a face. He remembered those. He pointed at the window with his head. “The bell tower—” he remarked. “It’s got a clear vantage point. Do you have lookouts there?”

“No—” the younger man answered. “We only—”

“You have to—” Rick cut him off. They always had to be on watch. They couldn’t be caught unaware again. They could not. Rick wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. Wasn’t going to go out and see a tank out of his walls one morning. Nothing— _nothing_ would sneak up at them again like that. Never. _Never again._

 _“_ There has to be someone up there, twenty-four seven. Sasha is a good shot. We could arrange a shift rotation with your guys—” Rick turned towards her. The Afro-American woman nodded. He didn’t trust Monroe’s men, so he had to be sure if they would do—perhaps he would even have a shift himself.

“How many patrols do you have?” he continued.

“We take watches at the gate—” Monroe repeated.

“You don’t regularly check the perimeters?” Amanda asked this time before him, her voice sounding…surprised. Rick shared the sentiment.

The dark haired man shrugged. “Sometimes we walk—”

Rick shook his head, anger finding him. Deanna was just silent beside him. “You have to have regular patrols. Inside. Outside.”

With the last word, they all looked at him. Even his own people. “Outside?” Tobin asked.

Rick gave a terse nod. “Outer watches,” he stated. “We need to set up a perimeter outside out of the wall and make sure nothing would approach us without our knowledge.” In his mind, Wolves Not Far written in blood all over the destroyed, burned, and butchered town flashed.

No. They were not going to get caught unaware again. The older Monroe shook his head. “The dead—”

Rick cut in once more, “—aren’t the only thing you should be scared of.” His eyes turned to Deanna as his tone grew heated. “People are worse. Before we came here, we found a town like this butchered, burned to the ground. Are there any signs out there?” he questioned further.

“Rick—” Amanda tried to interject, but he stopped her raising his hand. “This is a big project. Is there any billboards or such in the towns, on the road or somewhere with ads.” What Aaron had told them when he’d found them—the recruiter had spoken as if he was intoning from published material, words memorized. Alexandria’s Dream. A life of sustainability.

 _You just should’ve pulled down the signs, learned to protect yourself better,_ his own words to that monster came to him. Rick was going to listen to his own damn advice.

“Yeah. There are those old billboards at the roadside.”

Rick nodded. “We’re gonna pull them down.”

“You have a safe house?” He heard Amanda’s sigh as he continued questioning. All of them were looking at him…strangely now. Even Daryl.

“Man—easy—” his brother said slowly. Rick shook his head.

“We need to arrange a rendezvous point and a safe house to hole up if things go south,” he went on, not listening to them. “Need to work on an evacuation plan—”

“Rick!” Amanda’s voice raised an octave. “One step at a time. Let’s take it… _slow_.” Rick turned to his heated eyes on her. They couldn’t take _this_ slow. He could play along with her if she didn’t want to sleep with him, but not with this. Not with their safety.

He had to keep them safe! “This is why we’re here!” he protested. “This is why she wanted _me_ here!”

To his surprise, Deanna spoke beside him. “Rick is right. This is why he’s here—” the old woman nodded. “Let him do his job.” She turned to him and asked coolly. “What else do you think we need?”

“A sort of battlement to walk atop on the wall—” Rick answered quickly. “We need to have access to the heights.”

Deanna turned to Tobin, who answered him. “Not battlements, perhaps, but we could build a few more platforms along the wall.”

Rick nodded. “Can we reinforce the wall?” he questioned. “Deanna mentioned concrete.”

The older man nodded. “Reg and I thought about it before, but we don’t have necessary equipment.”

“Prepare me a list—” Rick said in return. “I’ll look into it.” He paused. “If we close the access avenues on the road, that could help, too.”

“Like military checkpoints?” Monroe read his intentions.

Rick gave another quick nod. “The whole thing is about not getting caught unguarded, unaware,” he explained, his agitation somewhat settling after Deanna’s approval. “If we’re faced with a threat greater than us, that would allow us time to prepare and plan a counterattack, or at least move on with the emergency plans.”

“Yes. Excellent—” the older woman turned to her son. “Hope you wrote all this down, Aiden,” she quipped with her smile.

For a second, Rick thought Aiden was going to roll his eyes. But what he did was worse. He turned and gave that smile at Amanda. “I think I’m gonna need a bit of help.” He looked back at his mother. “Can I take Officer Shepherd, Mother? She could help us prepare.”

Rick’s jaw throbbed. “I need Amanda to train people—” Rick said before she could answer. “Daryl and I will help you.”

Her jaw setting as she frowned, Amanda slanted a look at him. “Aaron said there are people who haven’t seen outside yet. They need to learn how to fight. We can’t have them like that.”

Ford moved in, too. “Rosita and I can help,” he remarked. “Until the other supply team arrives.”

Rick nodded. Amanda’s expression soured even more. “I _can_ help you, too, Aiden, when I’m available,” she said, and Rick wondered if she just did it to make him…rattled.

His clenched jaw moved, and Rick almost opened his mouth to tell her they should talk about it later, but Deanna beat it to him. “We shall talk about division of labor and fighting classes later in detail,” she said, putting a stop to the discussion. “Come—” The old woman waved at him and started walking towards the dining room. “There’s something I want you to see.”

On the table, Rick saw plans again. Deanna rolled out the biggest one over the table, the one with that Latin script. “This’s the Alexandria we envision—” she announced, and Rick heard a hopeful, proud devotion in her tone.

Bowing his head as the other joined them, Rick studied the plan. The town was detailed in scale, down to the walls, but more—much more than now was added. The grounds were enlarging towards the east—to the woods.

Expansion.

Deanna and her husband were planning an expansion. “This is gonna need a lot of work, hard labor—” Deanna remarked with that devoted tone. “But this is what we could build. For our children.”

Rick looked at the plans. There were two lines of walls, like the fences in the prison, and a protected field for crops between them in rows. For the expanded grounds towards the woods, they were going to need to prep the soil to make it suitable for planting, cutting out the trees and roots. A lot of hard labor, indeed. There was a much bigger school complex at the east side, with gardens and playgrounds circling it, a church, a hospital, and a windmill.

Pointing at the sketch, Deanna smiled. “Reg thinks we can manage it. He’s studying the engineering of it now.”

Rick nodded again. A mill. Where they could make their own flour, grind their crops. In the prison, he’d started thinking about it, but had never come that far. He’d thought of going old school, finding grinding stones to make flour from crops, but this was even better.

They could even manage to generate power from it if they managed it. Solar panels were good, but the maintenance to keep them up was going to be hard in their situation.

Sustainability. Longevity.

The future.

Though for today, there was still something they could do. “Flower beds, lawns—” Rick intoned, lifting his head. “This is gonna take time, and winter is coming. The front and back yards are good for planting. We need to plant a few winter plants, even create a greenhouse if we can before the brunt of winter arrives.”

Deanna’s expression sobered as she craned her neck up to meet Rick’s gaze. “We like flowers—”

“You’re gonna like food more,” he replied, indifferent, cutting her off.

He had nothing against the flowers. He liked them fine enough too, even had them for his family, made bouquets for Amanda to give her something pretty, but necessities came before luxuries.

“We’re gonna talk later—” Deanna countered with no further regard, rolling up the plans. Rick understood the meeting had come to an end. For today.

There was a lot of discussion they were going to make: about their arsenal, the supplies, the maintenance, even how they were dealing with the sick. That was something else Rick couldn’t let happen. But all those were discussions for another day, too.

Rick nodded curtly and started walking out. The rest of them followed him.

# # #

When they were out of Deanna’s house, Amanda realized something, clear as sky.

Rick needed to lay down. _Now_.

The way he’d been yesterday morning came to her, the way he took her in his arms, telling her he just wanted to sleep a bit, his tone almost imploring. Amanda really wondered when was the last time he’d _really_ slept, not just a quick nap with two eyes open before dawn, but a real sleep. It must’ve been weeks.

He nudged her as they walked down the street. The others were on their heels, and the streets were still deserted. Alexandria wasn’t an early wake upper. “Let’s go check out that school—” Rick said, wandering his eyes around. “I still haven’t seen the community center properly.”

Amanda shook her head. “No,” she declined. “There’s something else we need to do at the house.”

He gave her a suspicious look. “What?” He paused a second. “Was there a problem?”

“No—” Amanda answered with another head shake, entering the driveway. There was a problem indeed, but nothing they couldn’t fix. “We’re gonna fix it,” she murmured, eyeing the flowers, marigolds, pansies, and a few other species Amanda didn’t know much about other than they would endure the upcoming winter. Alexandria must have a sort of greenhouse to keep up with the gardening with colorful flowers on the grounds.

Rick wanted them gone. The thought made her sad, even though she could see the reason. Food was more important, but they still needed beauty. They still needed flowers, pretty things. They should keep a bit of it, come out on the porch in the morning, and look at the flowers in the first light of the day…

She stopped him on the steps of the porch. “We’re gonna keep a part of the flowers,” she remarked with all seriousness she could muster up. “We still need beauty.”

His eyes found hers again with that searching look, keen blue eyes fixated on hers. Then he nodded. “Okay.”

“Good—” she said, opening the screen door. “Now, come.”

“Amanda—” Rick called out to her as she walked in. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“We’re taking a break—” she replied firmly over her shoulder, then behind his back, she spotted Carol. “Carol, can you look after Judith?” she asked, cooling her voice further. “Rick and I are gonna rest for a while.”

Halting in the corridor, Rick stared at her. Carol brushed by him, continuing on her way to the living room. “Sure—” the older woman said as Amanda snagged his wrist and started dragging him along in the corridor, towards the den.

She stopped in front of the door. “Daryl—” She called out as the hunter moved in the kitchen. “Rick’s taking a break—” she repeated, her hand moving behind her back to hold the door’s handle. “Unless it’s like a herd of thousands banging at the walls, _don’t_ call us.”

Daryl shot her an almost wry grin. “Got it.”

She smiled back, cracking the door behind her, pushing it back in the room, and making way for Rick. Daryl vanished into the kitchen as Amanda jerked her head inside. “Get in.”

“Am—”

“Not a word, Rick—” she cut him off. “Get in.”

With a curious arch of his brow, Rick passed her at the threshold and walked into the room. Amanda closed the door behind them. He stood beside the door, still looking at her. Amanda knelt in front of him. When she raised her head up to look at him, she saw his brows got lost behind his hairline.

“Carl and Beth are in that school—” she explained, grabbing one of his cowboy boots. She tugged at it and started yanking it off. “Judith is with Carol. Daryl is taking the watch. The others can deal with the rest. We’re gonna sleep a bit.”

She craned her neck again, wondering if he recognized his own words. When she saw his eyes light up, Amanda knew he had. “We need to start moving upstairs, too,” he stated a second later, his eyes still on her, his chin tilted as Amanda began with the other boot.

The statement made her hands halt momentarily, but pulling herself together, Amanda nodded. “Yes. Tomorrow.” They were just going to do it. It was time to start coming back. _We’ve been on the edge too long. We have to come back._ They weren’t the walking dead.

Amanda stood up. His gaze never left hers as Amanda reached to his shoulders and began removing his suede jacket, rolling it off over his shoulders. He was silent now, letting her strip him, his eyes glued on hers turning heavy with another thing.

This wasn’t it. They weren’t going to have sex. They were going to sleep. Yet a tug throbbed inside her core, too, as Rick kept staring at her intently. She reached out to his duty belt and unbuckled it, bowing her head. She dropped the heavy belt with a thud on the rug covered floor beside the door.

Raising her head, Amanda took his hand. She led him to the couch and made him sit. Perching beside him on the edge of the couch, she took out her boot knife first, then started unlacing her boots. She kicked them off as Rick leaned over her from behind. She twisted aside as his arm circled her waist. “Amanda—”

She stopped him, pressing two fingers on his mouth. Her touch was gentle, but it shut him up. “No more talking—” she warned. “We’re gonna sleep.”

Rick chuckled faintly behind her fingers. “Yes, ma’am.” He lay on his side on the cushion at the corner, bringing her down in the meantime with his arm still coiled around her waist.

Amanda fussed with her empty holster and took it off too as Rick settled them on the couch, spooning behind her, freeing her hair in the meanwhile. Soon enough, they became a tangled mess of limbs. He slung his leg over hers, setting his foot between her feet. Using his own foot, he tugged their socks off, and in a few moments, their tangled bare feet kept each other warm as his hand slipped over to her pants. He didn’t unzip them, just unbuckled her first button and tucked his hand inside her waistline.

Somehow Rick also must’ve felt this wasn’t for sex. They were just taking a break, laying down a bit, sleeping in each other’s arms. They weren’t the walking dead. The knowledge and his consent unwound her further as she relaxed in his embrace. His other arm, looped over her, drew her closer before his hand slipped under her shirt and cupped her left breast gently inside her spare lacework bra. Like the hand above her pelvis, he just kept it there, his palm curled around her breast. Instantly, her nipples stood to attention under his calloused skin.

Amanda really liked the sensation. Being touched like this. Liked it a lot. Especially when he started softly rubbing his fingertips across the soft swell of her breast.

She half spun her head on the cushion they shared and looked at him. His eyes were already closed as he continued his soft motions, his expression already easing off. He was breathing steadily with each stroke. The sight reminded her of Judith playing with her hair as she fell asleep. Rick’s jaw lost the tension, too, the deep lines etched on his skin with his habitual frowns and scowls disappearing a bit. With a small, subsided sigh, Amanda turned as she felt his semi-hardness poking at her back.

She didn’t react, just ignored it, careful not to wriggle to make it worse for him. Rick still stayed in the same state. She wanted to comfort him, not give him another set of blue balls. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to sleep. They both needed sleep. Her hand crawled over her waistline, and Amanda lay it over his that was still tucked inside her unbuttoned pants as his other hand kept massaging her breast gently.

Rick murmured something drowsily. “Cinnamon…” Amanda heard the second time. “You smell cinnamon.”

She smiled. “Like it?”

“Hmmm—” Rick drew her closer, against his hardness, his hand cupping her breast a bit tighter. “Pancakes…” he muttered the next second over her neck, “make it with cinnamon.”

She let out a low giggle. “With cinnamon. Honey?” she asked further.

“Hmm mm—” Rick murmured in answer.

A few minutes later, Amanda heard deep, heavy steady breaths as Rick fell asleep.

Amanda closed her eyes again and followed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note, Clarice is based on Carla from Elité, Netflix's Spanish TV Show. I like this girl, even though Clarice's character is different, I used Carla's mannerism and visuals to build Clarice. Google her if you would like. I think she's also becoming one of those characters that wedges herself into the story, much like how Amanda did at Adaptation, getting tangled with Carl. I quite have started enjoyed writing her, and that means expect more! There's gonna be a lot of teenage drama around! Poor Amanda, poor Rick. :D The teenagers are certainly not going to help while they try to figure out things with their relationship.
> 
> Until the next time.


	5. 'I lied'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Amanda is asked to accompany Aiden Monroe's team outside to take down the signs, Rick faces with another challenge.

When Amanda opened her eyes again, Rick’s hands were still at the same places. She drowsily blinked at the sunlight that seeped from the window from their left side, suppressing a yawn, bringing up her hand on his to cover her mouth. The hand inside her open zipper had inched down further during sleep that made Rick almost cup between her legs fully.

His hand over her breast was motionless while he still slept, breathing with deep, steady breaths. Amanda lowered her hand, stopping her wriggling, her body aching. Their legs and feet were tangled together even worse as Rick had half draped over her in their sleep while still lying on his side. Despite the weight, their tangled state was oddly…satisfying. She wondered how much time had passed. It was around noon when they’d returned from Deanna, perhaps a bit later, but since she still saw daylight, Amanda surmised a few hours had passed.

Well, she’d hoped they could at least sleep until nightfall, but it was better than nothing. Feeling her waking up, Rick started stirring. Removing his hand in her pants up away over her stomach, Amanda rolled in his embrace to face him. Her muscles still ached, but suppressing a wince, she smiled at him instead as Rick opened his eyes.

“Hey—” he smiled back at her, his voice hoarse still from sleep.

“Hey.” Amanda murmured as he realized where his hands were and started slowly stroking her again. She smiled further and inched closer to him. “Feel better?” she asked.

He tilted his head down and found her lips. “Definitely better—” he muttered lowly before he kissed her. His hands sliding over her circled around her waist and dragged her up on top of him as he turned himself onto his back.

Amanda lay on his chest as they slowly kissed, her body aching more with the sudden, swift move.

But it was just muscle pain, not like that pain in the woods at the end of each of her nerves, just the sore muscles that had stayed long inactive in stillness. Drowsily, as they kissed lazily, Amanda wondered really how long they slept. Her body…her body felt like she’d slept more than a few hours—

When their kiss became heated, her muscles started protesting worse. Rick’s hand moved to the nape of her neck, deepening the kiss. She pulled an inch away from him, her face strained, and let out a moan, rolling her shoulders. “God—how long have we been sleeping?”

Moving under her, Rick shrugged and winced. “I dunno. My muscles are all stiff, too.” He moved his arm up across her waist. Amanda eyed his wrist. “It stopped—” he slowly remarked, then winced a bit further. “Don’t feel my arm properly.”

“Yeah—” Amanda raised her hand and rubbed her neck as she bowed her head. “Your hands rather liked where they were.”

“They found good places—” Amanda felt his hand joining hers on her neck as he murmured, starting massaging her sore muscles.

She moaned lowly, her eyes closing. Under her, the hardness poking against her groin became more evident even though Rick ignored it. Amanda waited for him to make a move, but he was still lying under her, not…moving. He was keeping his promise. A part of her almost wanted him not to, wanted him to flip them and started to have his wicked way with her again. The other part just wanted them to stay like this forever.

Her moans grew a bit louder as his fingers found a kinked muscle and pressed on it. “Ah—”

“Good?” Rick asked roughly.

She bobbed her head absentmindedly. “Yeah…” His hands… She wanted his hands back where they had been. His fingers made circular movements over the nape of her neck as her breath hitched and her soft moans became soft groans.

Perhaps she’d been wrong. Perhaps Rick was making a _move_. She raised her head as he dipped his chin… In his eyes there was that playful glint with mirth.

Their lips got closer but before they found each other a soft knock on the door interrupted them. “Rick—” Amanda heard Daryl’s distinctive rough drawl. “You up?” 

Their heads whipping sideways at the sound, they both scowled at the same time. Amanda wondered what happened _again_ _,_ because the only possibility that Daryl would come to look for them must be another disaster, which was, admittedly, a common occurrence. But the man’s drawl was subdued. And there were no panicked screams of Rick's name in the air that usually followed such an occasion.

No. There was no danger. Daryl wouldn’t have been this calm if something really happened. And that meant—holy shit!

She rolled herself over, off Rick to the floor, dropping in a crouch, and got to her feet quickly. Her strained, sore muscles protested again, but Amanda ignored the pain and jogged towards the window. She tossed aside the drapes and checked the sun’s position.

“Oh—” _Oh, fuck,_ Amanda thought inwardly, as behind her, she heard Rick getting up from the couch. He came to her side a few seconds later and looked outside, too. His neck craned up and found the sun.

“W—we slept all day?” he asked with astonishment, disbelief tinting his tone. Amanda shared the sentiment once more.

She couldn’t fucking believe it. They—they’d slept a _whole_ day!

When they all were huddled in the living room, she’d slept with Rick a whole day and night in this room! Her mind started turning. Beth, Judith—Carl—

Carl!

Oh, Carl. Her breath started hitching as a tremor passed over her, her eyes still staring ahead. She’d just showed him something—taught him how to change Judith’s diaper. This was going to square them again back to the beginning. “Hey—” Catching her upper arms, Rick turned her towards himself as if he’d read her mind. “Amanda—we _just_ slept.”

She swallowed. A whole day. “Carl. I just showed him how to change Judith’s diaper—” she murmured.

Rick gave her a suspicious look. “Yeah…?”

She shrugged his hands off her. “And this happened!” she bit off. “You saw how he was in the morning yesterday when he saw us together.”

Rick looked like he was suppressing a sigh. “He _didn’t_ see us together this time,” he pointed out and repeated. “He needs to accept it.” He paused, slanting her another look. “ _You_ need to accept it.”

Not liking where the talk was turning, Amanda buttoned up her pants, tucked her shirt back in properly, and went to open the door. “Hey—” Daryl greeted them as Rick stood behind her at the threshold.

Daryl eyed them quickly, but didn’t make any comment. Amanda felt grateful it was him, no one else, and that they at least didn’t have the morning sex look. Though with their tousled hair, wrinkled clothes, and bare feet, they had all the other necessary bits.

“Aiden Monroe came—” Daryl stated without ceremony after that, and behind her, Amanda felt Rick going rigid. “Deanna wants his team to pull down those signs you mentioned yesterday.”

Amanda arched an eyebrow, surprised. She twisted aside to Rick and saw him wearing the same expression as well. Well, that was unexpected. Beneath the surprise, Rick also looked…pleased. He nodded. “Good. They’re listening.” He bent down and picked up his duty belt that Amanda had left beside the door yesterday. He started buckling it on himself, but Daryl shook his head.

“Nah, man, not you—” His hands stopping, Rick lifted his head and stared at Daryl. “Monroe—uh—he wants Amanda,” the tracker drawled out roughly, pointing with his head at her.

“What?” Rick all but hissed.

“He said he wants her to accompany them out.”

Amanda wanted to mimic Rick’s question, but before she could do anything, Rick let out an angry hiss. He buckled his duty belt forcefully and stepped out in the corridor.

Her expression stiffening, Amanda stepped out of the room, too.

What the fuck was that?

She followed Rick as Daryl followed her. She understood his…rattled jealousy, but Aiden had asked for _her_.

They walked in the living room almost at the same time as Aiden directly spoke to her. Well, at least finally someone remembered _her_.

“Morning—” the older of the Monroe brothers tipped his head with the word. “We’re going to take those signs down,” he explained like he’d done to Daryl. “You said you can help when you’re available.” His lips twitched a bit. “Are you?”

She nodded. “Yeah—” she started, but Rick cut her off.

“No. She stays. I'll come with you,” he rasped, and pointed a hand at himself, turning aside to walk again. “I need my gun back. We'll go to the armory first.”

Standing where he was, unmoving, Aiden shook his head. “No. Mother wants you to stay inside the walls. In fact, she awaits you at the house.”

Rick stopped in his retreat. He gave Aiden a long, measuring look, hard, stern eyes fixated at the younger man. His jaw moved as he scowled further as Aiden just stood unflinching under his scrutiny. Rick gave a curt nod a second later. “Fine. I'll go and talk to her.” He tossed a look at her before he warned. “ _No one_ goes anywhere until I come back.”

Aiden shrugged indifferently and started moving. “Be at the main gate in an hour if you want to come,” he shot at Amanda while walking out of the living room.

When he left the house, they all stood silently. Everyone was looking at them now, but not because they’d slept together a whole day inside the den how she’d dreaded a few minutes ago. The pinched expression over Rick’s face must mirror her own because Amanda felt as pissed-off as Rick looked like.

How could he dare to treat her like this!

She almost told him to go fuck himself, but remembering their audience, she settled with marching out towards the kitchen. Behind her, she heard the sturdy clicks of boot heels as Rick did the same.

A few seconds later, the outside door opened and closed with a loud, angry thud. Amanda didn’t turn back.

# # #

Anger was boiling in him.

All the relaxation, all the calmness he felt upon waking up was gone in a matter of blink. Why did everything have to be like this? Why she couldn’t just sit down and stay in the house. If something had to be done, Rick could do it—

He knew he didn’t make sense. He knew. It didn’t work like that, their lives didn’t work like that anymore, and it was a point that had been proved to them many times. Moreover, Amanda wasn’t like Lori. She’d _already_ told him that, too, but the idea of her being outside without him after they just made it inside walls? No. It was making all of his nerves stand up, strained like a drawn bow.

He wondered if Deanna was playing mind games with him. The woman _knew_ they were together. Even though Rick hadn’t told her anything, Amanda had. Yet, before anyone else, even before Daryl, Abraham, even himself, she became the first one to be asked to go outside.

Like hell Rick would let that happen!

Deanna was measuring him, testing him for his reaction. Even testing perhaps to see the boundaries of their relationship. Rick was sure Amanda’s admission was as vague as possible. Curse him to hell if Rick let her toy with Amanda like this. She was his to protect, his job—his duty… Rick would never let them treat the woman he loved like a pawn in a power play.

Arriving at the white house, Rick rang the bell.

Deanna’s husband opened the door. “Good morning, Deputy—” the old man greeted him. “Deanna was waiting for you.”

Yeah, Rick bet she was.

Rick gave the man a curt nod and walked in. Deanna was seated at the dining table going over her plans. She was wearing elegant horn rimmed glasses as she studied them. Noticing his arrival, she pulled the glasses down and let them hang over her chest on their chain around her neck. “Hello, Rick. I was looking at the plans—” she started. “About the lawns and flower beds—”

Rick cut her off. “Amanda’s going nowhere. I'll go with Aiden.”

Eyeing him carefully, the old woman stayed silent for a while, twisting in her seat fully to face him. Then she shook her head. “No. You can’t go out.”

Rick arched an eyebrow. “You wanted us to take down signs, and I agreed,” she remarked. “I gave an order to Aiden, he rounded up a team, and they’re going to proceed,” she went on as Rick’s expression closed off completely. “You don’t have any place in that.”

His squared jaw throbbed. “I need to be out there—”

“Not every time, not for every single thing—” Deanna retorted. “I wanted you, Rick, because I wanted a right-hand to rule with me. Leaders cannot do legwork.” He drew in a sharp breath as the word slipped inside him. _Legwork_.

She wanted the woman he loved to endanger her life for them, and she called it _legwork_.

“Y-you send the woman I…care about out there—” Rick pointed outside as he spat with venom, “and you call it _legwork_?”

Deanna faced his anger serenely. “I send _my_ _son_ out there, and I call it legwork,” she reminded him, her voice still serene and calm, but also carrying a different kind of heat, a different kind of power.

“Have you ever seen a general running around to do chores?” she asked, and her expression shifting again, she gave him that smile. “No. They stand behind the lines, lead their people. They stand beside them only when it’s necessary to stand at the front. Give them strength, give them hope. Those times might come, but this isn’t one of them now.”

The woman smiled at him again. “Besides, there’s so many things to do. Your list—” she said. “I was expecting you make reconnaissance with your team, inspect the grounds outside, make your rounds, start the shifts—”

Rick knew when he was being settled down. He gave the woman a hard look. “Yes. I was planning on that—” Knowing the grounds, finding escape routes, safe houses, and making caches were going to be his first tasks, but he wasn’t planning to go on short a team member. “I need a team with me,” he stated, changing his game tactic. “I can’t do all the legwork by myself.” He smirked. “I need Amanda, too.”

Deanna gave him another gentle smile. “You all already work together. We need to start mixing up the teams to get over the foreignness.”

His smirk vanished as his lips thinned. “Fine. Aiden takes Daryl or Abraham—”

Deanna cut him off. “Aiden wanted Amanda.” His jaw squared so hard, it hurt. “They already had a good rapport when she came yesterday for her interview. Shared tea together—” As his eyes narrowed, Rick _really_ wondered if the woman was playing with Amanda, to really test for his reaction.

For a second or so, Rick didn’t want to disappoint her. He almost told the old woman her son had flirted with _his girlfriend_ , offered her something _harder_ , but stopped the words before they left his mouth. Instead, he scowled harder, felt his jaw almost break.

“Aiden isn’t a good team player, I’m afraid,” Deanna continued with a sigh when he didn’t react further. “I can’t put Sergeant Ford and him on the same team. Not yet. And as for Daryl—” the woman explained. “I haven’t figured him out yet, either.” She let out another sigh, shaking her head. “I have to think of my own people too. It’s as hard for them as it is for you. Amanda and Aiden seem like they’re getting along.”

Glaring at her again, Rick stayed silent. “Rick—” Deanna Monroe went on, “I know you…care about her in a different way,” the woman then stated as he glared even harder. “But she’s also a capable police officer. She can stay in and train people, but I’ll also need her going outside.” She paused, and her eyes found his before she asked openly. “It’s not going to be a problem for you, is it?

As he looked back at the woman, Rick realized he didn’t have a direct, simple answer for that question. So he lied. “No. It won’t.”

# # #

After Rick left, Amanda started packing. There was little she could, so after she’d packed food and water from the supplies, she went to the armory. A curvy brunette woman, who introduced herself as Olivia, was already expecting her arrival. The woman handed her gun back to her without a fuss. Tucking it in her holster, feeling the relaxing familiar weight on her upper thigh, Amanda trotted back to the house.

Outside, Beatrice Reese was jogging on the track, but she kept her eyes ahead. This was her job. She had to earn her keep, like she had since her childhood. She was asked, so she was going. What else would she do anyways? Jog in the morning, take a shower, prepare breakfast…

Pancakes…cinnamon, oatmeal, Judith, they all came to her at once, but Amanda forced the thoughts away. She prowled, scavenged, and killed rotters—that was what she did. What Amanda Shepherd always had been. The go-to officer you asked when you wanted things to get done. She let out a silent snicker, recalling once more how even Gorman had wanted her back in the end. Amanda was just business. Like always.

The first one who got sent outside.

She wasn’t bitter. No. It was just what she was.

Amanda opened the door, and walking in, she headed to the kitchen. She better eat something before they left. Inside the kitchen, Beth was together with Carl, with Carl holding Judith. Amanda gave them a look. “Didn’t you go to school this morning?” she asked with a frown.

Beth shook her head violently. “I don’t want to go to school!” she protested heatedly again, and Amanda felt tired…so tired. Weren’t things supposed to be better when they got inside and found a place for themselves?

Well, three days, and Amanda was still waiting. “Beth—”

Beth cut her off. “I want to come with you on the run!”

Setting the bowl down, Amanda poured some cornflakes in before she shook her head. “No. Go to the school now.”

“I said I am not going.”

“Beth—” she warned, finding a spoon to start eating the dry mix. There was no milk, and she didn’t really like cold water with powdered milk. “Please. This isn’t a good time. Just go to the school.”

But Beth was in open defiance. “You can’t tell me what to do—” She almost sneered the words.

With a deep breath, Amanda let the words wash over her. “I don’t know those people,” she started explaining in a clipped voice, instead of yelling at her to go to the school just _how_ she wanted. “I don’t know how they operate, how they work. We can’t go together. You sit out this one, and I'll take you on the next one,” she bargained.

As time passed, it became quite obvious that Beth’s time had come. A part of her rioted against the idea despite herself, despite everything, wanting to protect her just like she’d promised Maggie, but she couldn’t do that. Beth had to be allowed out, for her _own_ damn sake. Amanda knew it. They _had to_ learn how to fly out of the nest; it was _her_ own dawn words! Amanda just wouldn’t have guessed it would be this hard.

But finally seeing her reason, the teenager nodded. “You promise?” she asked, but winced after the words left her mouth.

Amanda didn’t react…trying not to remember how she’d asked those words last…how Maggie wouldn’t have held her own promise. Instead, Amanda nodded. “I promise.”

Beth walked out without another word then. Amanda released a sigh. Carl was eyeing her with a look that reminded her of Rick. “Can I come, too?” he asked suddenly.

Amanda turned to him, stupefied. Taking him out too? Being responsible for him that way? Rick’s son? The idea passed a tremor through her. No. She couldn’t do that. She was hardly dealing with Beth.

Carl saw her expression as she looked at him and read it. “I’m sorry—” she said truthfully. “I can’t do it.”

Carl’s eyes grew heated as much as Beth’s. “Because you’re with Dad, right?”

The only answer she could give for that was a yes, but Amanda didn’t want to do it. So she kept her silence, looking at the teenager. Carl turned and walked out much like Beth’s fashion.

It looked like she’d managed to disappoint two teenagers in a record time. She heaved a deep sigh and started eating the cereal, her hip propped against the kitchen island. Just as she finished, she heard the outside door opening, and a few minutes later, Rick appeared in the doorway.

He was in the denim shirt. Amanda clued in that he’d taken off his jacket, so he wasn’t leaving now. They shared a look before she set down the finished bowl on the island’s countertop. “I’m going—” she stated with a firm voice, and added, as a warning, “and I’m _not_ in the mood for fighting.”

“Me either,” Rick retorted and pointed outside the corridor with his head. “Let’s go to the den.” She narrowed her eyes. “There’s still time before the hour is finished,” he clipped.

After that, Amanda walked around the island, and they went back to the den. This time there was no lovey-dovey stuff. They didn’t kiss, and they didn’t sleep in each other’s arms. Rick eyed her holster as he sat down on the couch. “Got it back?”

“Yeah—” Amanda sat beside him, nodding halfway. “What did you talk about with Deanna?”

Rick grimaced. “Basically, she told me I can’t do legwork.”

Amanda let out a snicker. “Yeah. You’re much too valuable for that.”

Rick gave her a look. “She told me she’s also sending _her_ _son_.”

Shutting up, Amanda realized Rick had _that_ fight with Deanna, too. She didn’t know what to feel. When he’d acted like that this morning, she’d become pissed, like she didn’t have a say in it, but the notion of him not wanting her to risk her life doing…legwork, it—it made her breathe easier, too.

She didn’t know what that meant. She didn’t know anything anymore! Not a damn thing!

“Do you want to go?” Rick asked, twisting aside to look at her.

She almost made a sound— “I—” she said, stopped, and shrugged. “It’s my job.”

Rick gave her a half nod, bowing his head. Leaning forward, he braced his elbows on his upper knees, and started playing with his hands. “She asked me if you’re being out there with other people would be a problem for me—” he spoke lowly, his eyes fixated on the floor. “I lied. I said no.” He paused a second as Amanda drew in a breath. “I don’t like it.”

“I—I understand—” Twisting aside, Rick lifted his head up at her. “But it’s still my job.” She eased off a small shrug. “Gotta earn my keep.”

“Amanda, you _don’t_ have to do this if you don’t want to—” he told her again, his voice having another heat, but earnest as much as his gaze. Reading what he left unspoken, she swallowed a lump through her throat, but shook her head.

“I—I don’t know, Rick—” she told him truthfully. “I need time.”

She hoped he would understand. She needed time, for what she wasn’t even sure anymore, but she needed to figure it out. The inclinations of his words were clear, but Amanda wasn’t sure how she felt about that, either. She’d always taken care of herself, earned her keep; it was her life in a nutshell since her childhood. If you were useful in homes, you had a better chance for stability.

Rick drew up and looked at her as if he understood before he nodded silently. A weight on her chest lifted as Amanda let out a sigh of relief. 

Leaning back against the headrest, a sigh escaped from Rick, too. “I think she wanted to test me,” he stated, sliding a side look to her.

Then it dawned on Amanda. “Wanted to see how you would react—” she muttered, mulling over it.

Rick gave another terse nod. She shook her head, getting angry with herself. She was getting sloppy. Testing the boundaries would have been the first thing she would’ve done if she weren’t this far caught up in her own drama.

Rick tossed her another look.

“She’s been doing it since the beginning, Rick,” she told him. “Making us sit in those interviews looking like shit, taping it. Asking you if there’s someone special for you, asking me if we’re together—” she went on, giving an angry hiss before she jerked her head furiously. “I—I should’ve thought about this!”

Deanna had set her game while they were lounging in each other’s arms, babbling about pancakes!

What was worse, Amanda had wanted it.

She sighed deeply. “Uh, I guess we need to think of a way to test her boundaries also. I can poke around a bit. Push her buttons like I did with you—”

Rick’s attention snapped at her again. “What?”

“Uh—” she breathed out, darting a look over to him. “Remember me asking you what you were doing with yourself when you weren’t rescuing women in the woods?” she asked as Rick’s eyes narrowed. “I—uh—I was poking at you. You said you weren’t the leader, that you weren’t in the council, but you had keys, _a lot_ of keys, you know. And the way you talked—screamed authority. So I got curious. Poked a little.” She shrugged her shoulders.

Rick let out a scoff.

“Hey, you were very…intriguing.”

Suddenly the heavy mood between them turned to something else, as his blue eyes darkened with another sharp glint. “Was I?” he asked, leaning towards her.

“Hmm mm—” she murmured, staring at his darkened eyes as he drew even closer to her. “You—” her words cut off as his lips silenced her.

# # #

“What are you going to do?” Amanda asked as they entered the kitchen as she checked her backpack. The thought of her being outside without him was still making his every nerve stand up, but Rick tried to soothe himself down. She’d said she needed time.

It wasn’t just for sex. Rick could see it clearly now. It seemed sex wasn’t only the thing they had to try to resolve between them.

“We’re going to make a patrol outside—” he answered. “Survey the grounds. I want to look around.”

Amanda nodded, rummaging through her backpack. “Yeah—” Her hands halted for a second, then she lifted her head. “Beth—Beth and Carl. They asked me to take them out,” she suddenly said as Rick’s scowl returned. “I declined. But they got mad at me. _Again_.”

There was a tiredness in her voice now, something that made him itch to take her in his arms again, lay them down on that couch. Sleep like that, his hands having a feel of her as she was pressed against his chest, cocooned in his embrace. Rick hadn’t slept like that for weeks. He wondered when he could have it again.

“Can you take them, too?” Amanda asked then, looking at him. “Maybe they’d cool down if you take them.”

His scowl turned to a full frown. “I’m not taking a tour in the park. They have to find something else to entertain themselves.”

“Rick—”

“Amanda—”

“—They still need to learn.” She completed as if he hadn’t cut her off.

With a sigh, Rick nodded. “Okay. Fine. We take them. I’ll go with Daryl. Abraham can come, too.”

Amanda bobbed her head halfway and slung the backpack over her shoulder. “Okay. Good.” She came to his side. Rick gently cupped the side of her face through her half-ponytail, wishing he could thread his fingers through her loose hair instead. “Be careful out there, ‘kay?” he asked her with a rasp, his emotions thinning his voice.

She nodded again, her eyes stuck on his. “Go now—” he murmured at her. “Before I lock you in a room and throw away the keys.”

She smiled, and rising on her toes, gave him a peck on the lips. “I’ll be back.”

“You _better_ be—” he warned.

As she left, Rick let out a deep sigh, telling himself again nothing was going to happen to her. Tonight, she was going to be back in his arms. Staring at the door after her for a few seconds in the corridor, Rick turned and went to the living room. He quickly surveyed the room, wondering again if it was time to move upstairs—but he had another job first.

His eyes wandered but couldn’t spot Daryl. It was understandable, as Daryl never liked closed spaces, and had been on watch as much as Rick had. Rick made a mental note to send him to sleep too after they settled this. Walking outside, he crossed the porch and went around the back deck.

\--and halted in his steps seeing Joan and Daryl sitting on the steps across from each other, checking over Daryl’s bolts in silence. They weren’t talking, their heads bowed as they worked in silence, but Rick still felt as of he walked in on them—in a moment.

He cleared his throat a bit as they lifted their heads and looked at him. “Hey, man—” Daryl greeted him, putting a bolt down against his hip. Joan kept her bead bowed, disinterested, and ran her fingers along the bolt’s feathers she was holding.

Rick gave her another look. “I thought Deanna wanted you in the sick bay—” he stated, walking closer towards them.

The curly dark haired woman shrugged. “Yeah, but she didn’t give a timeline,” she replied. “I don’t feel like returning to the antiseptic smell yet.” She raised her head—towards Daryl who had returned to his job after Rick's arrival and showed him the bolt in her hands. “I think this one has a split,” she said as Daryl looked at her. “Check it.” She handed him the bolt.

Daryl took it, turning back to him. “What is it?” he questioned.

“I want to make a perimeter check outside. Look around. Inspect the grounds. Coming?”

Daryl rolled his head in a half nod. “Yeah—was getting bored—” He stood up, bowing his head, and his gaze found Joan. “Uh—” Before he could continue, Joan got to her feet.

“I’m coming, too.”

They both gave another half nod. They padded back to the front porch. “Do you know where Beth and Carl are?” he asked. “I’m taking them, too. They both made a fuss at Amanda before she left.”

Joan nodded. “I saw them walking towards the center—” she answered.

“I'll go get them—” Rick said, “You gather Abraham? He might look around. And ask Glenn, too.”

Glenn was still looking better than most of the days before Alexandria, but sitting idly didn’t do wonders when you were depressed. Daryl nodded. “See ya at the gate—” he said before they parted ways.

He walked to the pond, wondering if Amanda had already left the gate. His feet almost turned to go to check it out. Rick stopped himself at the last moment. He’d already acted like a jealous, overprotective boyfriend as it was. If he showed up now at the gate, Amanda might kick his ass.

He found the youngsters in a gazebo at the back of the community center, sitting with some new friends. Both Carl and Beth looked a bit distraught at seeing him walking towards them, and Rick narrowed his eyes.

“Hey—you didn’t go to school?” he asked, looking at the teenagers. Clarice was still wearing her uniform like the last time Rick had seen her. Carl shook his head as Beth shrugged. “No. Not yet.”

“I don’t want to—” Beth said, as Rick’s gaze caught something on the ground inside the gazebo. Stubbed out cigarette butts.

His head snapped toward Carl, who had followed his look. “Carl—”

“It’s not ours, Deputy Grimes,” Clarice spoke quickly. “We don’t smoke.”

Rick eyed them carefully and decided to have a talk with Beatrice. After years of dealing with perps and dealers, Rick knew when he was being lied to. He turned to Carl, deciding to have a _talk_ later, too. “We're going outside with Daryl. Wanna come?” he asked them.

“You're going outside?” Ron asked, taking a step closer. “Can you take us out, too?”

Rick let out a subdued sigh. “I can’t do it without your parents'—” He slanted a look at Clarice as she opened her mouth, “—or your sister’s approval.”

Ron’s shoulder sagged. “Dad won’t let me—”

Clarice shrugged. “Beatrice might…cry if I ask.”

Rick knew they shouldn’t do it, but they all shared a little laugh at that. “Um—” Rick told them then, “Amanda—she will start a class soon. You might join it if you want.” He turned to Carl and Beth. “You coming?”

They nodded and started walking around the pond towards the armory. They took their guns back and started towards the gate. They heard the clamor even before they made it to the guard outpost. Beside the gate, Spencer Monroe was on gate duty. The man was walking backwards towards the platform’s thick beams as Joan stalked the younger Monroe angrily. They were circled by Daryl, Glenn, and Abraham.

Rick quickened his steps as Beth and Carl did the same. Daryl was holding Joan’s elbow to pull her back as she spat at Spencer. “What do you mean I can’t leave?”

Spencer Monroe looked at the fuming woman, intimidated. “Uh—your name came up this morning. You made it onto the list—” he explained as Rick arrived at the scene. “Mother doesn’t want you to leave.”

“What list?” Daryl roughed out, pulling Joan to his side.

Rick understood. With a scoff, he shook his head. “Her priority list—” he said, recalling Aaron's words. Deanna—the old politician wolf didn’t waste any time. “You’ve made it onto her first priority list, Joan,” he told the nurse.

“I did what?” Joan snapped her head at him.

“You’ve got medical training—” Rick explained it how Aaron had explained it to him. “It makes you much too valuable an asset to risk outside.”

 _Not like Amanda_ —the thought passed in his mind as his insides uproared with the idea again, but Deanna was risking her own son as well, which made her at least genuine in her words. Not less devious, though.

“She’s got a priority list,” Rick continued, slanting a look at the younger Monroe. “People with a profession like medical or engineering or architecture is her top priority. As are single parents with children—” he added remembering Aaron's other words. “As she doesn’t want to risk children being orphans.”

Carl gave him a look. “You’re a single parent, too, dad—” he pointed.

“Well, I guess I’m an exception,” Rick sneered.

He’d meant his words as a jab, but Spencer Monroe’s eyes held no humor as he turned to Rick. “Yes. Mother gave you a special clearance.” He turned to Joan. “Ms. Summers, please—”

“You can’t keep her inside—”

“It’s for her own good—” Spencer retorted, “And I can’t decide on that. It’s Mother’s decision.”

“I’m gonna talk to her—” Rick said, but not now. “Later,” he added. Daryl shot him a heavy glare. “We need to go now. I’ll talk to her when we return. Joan?” he turned to the nurse.

“Fine—” Joan bit off, storming off away from the gate. Daryl stared at her back.

“Daryl—” Rick prompted. There was something going on between them. If Rick couldn’t be sure of it before, after the look he saw Daryl give the dark curly haired woman’s back, now he was. There was anger on her behalf in the hunter’s clear blue eyes and worry. For a second, Rick thought he would follow Joan, but the next second, Daryl turned aside towards him. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

Rick frowned a bit, but let it go.

They walked out and quickly crossed the driveway that led the main entrance. It was the first time Rick saw Alexandria’s whereabouts in daylight. The streets to the west seemed deserted, a few lone walkers roaming listlessly. There were a few cars parked on the streets. Rick surmised they had been out of gas as they were left alone, but they could be used to block the main gate. They could dig a line of trenches as well and close the street’s entrance with a gate. They could pile the vehicles, managing a road block at the intersection that led to the highway. If they could cut it off, they could give better attention to the woods, as anyone would need to come from there with the roads blocked, making them continue on foot.

The woods were far more dangerous.

Wolves Not Far.

They were never.

As soon as they took cover under the trees, Rick felt a familiar feeling returning to him—the faint sounds the branches made as they waved with the wind, the crunches the fallen leaves gave as they crumbled under their heels, the fallen branches creaking. The smell, too. The air was familiar, too, less heavy than Alexandria. In the distance, if he listened, Rick could even hear a distant water sound—which would be a blessing if they were in the woods.

Something clicked in him in a way that felt wrong—and Rick almost thought he came back…home.

No, he forced the thought—the notion off his mind. The woods weren’t their home. They belonged to Alexandria now. It was going to be their home.

They had taken a map so they could circle a grid. Daryl had already started moving around, his mood more foul than ever. Rick let the man be.

Besides, making a tour, checking the lay of the land wasn’t the only reason why Rick had come out. No. He didn’t know _when_ he would need it, but after this morning—after his talk with Deanna, Rick had become sure of it.

He needed a gun. He couldn’t leave things to…luck or Deanna’s good conscience or her good intentions.

If it came down to that, Rick was going to need a gun. He hoped it wouldn’t, but Alexandria was going to be their home. One way or another, he’d promised himself, lifting his head to check around the woods.

They didn’t belong to this wilderness.

He made a wave at Daryl. “I’m checking that side—” He pointed to the west, approaching Daryl. “We meet here when the sun shadow five at two. Buried a gun in a cabin around here before we came. I’m gonna retrieve it—” he explained.

Daryl sent him a quick look and nodded. “’kay.”

Rick nodded in return, gestured at Carl. “Carl. You’re with me.” Rick gave another look at Daryl, his eyes glancing at Beth. “Be careful of Beth,” he whispered. “She ain’t…well.”

Daryl rolled his head again. “Got it.”

Rick and Carl moved towards the west as Daryl took the others east. While they ranged in the woods, Rick thought they were ready for another talk. “Carl, before I came,” Rick started, slanting a look at his boy who trudged beside him through the roots and ditches, “Were you smoking there?”

His answer didn’t hesitate. “No, dad.”

“Carl—” Rick called out, putting an emphasis in his name.

“What if I did?” his son snapped, twisting to stare at him. “It’s the end of the world, dad! What if I smoked a damn cigarette?”

Swallowing down the irritation the swear word provoked, Rick held onto his resolve. “Carl, I’m trying to have a talk here with you… _civilly_ ,” he clipped, trying very hard to keep his tone…civil.

Carl bowed his head. “Sorry, dad.”

“It’s okay—” Rick told his son. “But I don’t want you to do it again.”

Carl shrugged. “I just wanted to…try.”

“I know—” Rick replied. “I—I tried once around your age. Got curious.”

Surprised, Carl looked up at him. Rick was surprised, too, telling that memory to his son… “Yeah…” he muttered. “It was a dare. Sh—Shane got us into it.”

There was a brief pause in the air after that, but Carl didn’t react. Perhaps one day they should sit down and talk about that, too. One day. When they were ready. Rick—Rick was still trying. “I hated it,” Rick continued, sharing with his son. It felt nice.

“I hated it, too—” Carl replied, admitting.

Rick let out a snicker. “Glad to hear it.”

“You smoked, too—” his teenage boy suddenly announced, and Rick almost trapped over a root. “I saw you smoke in the cabin with Amanda—and outside in the church—”

“Yeah—” Rick admitted too. “I did.” The cigarettes she’d dealt for him were still waiting though, untouched, much like the condoms she’d saved for them. Untouched. But Rick didn’t want to think about them. He didn’t even know if she still had them or just got rid of them to create herself an escape route to refuse him…

Not that the lack of condoms had stopped them before—even before he could complete the thought, the images assaulted him—the way they had sex under the tree that day without any barriers that divided them. Their only other time in the bathroom was great, too, but having her naked, feeling her fluttering around him in her heated depths, nothing between them. No. That was something altogether different.

He wondered if they would ever reach to that point again—that she would ever let him touch her without condoms—

Rick stopped the thoughts. He didn’t need to think of that now. They were going to wait. Take their time. Even today, Amanda had confessed again she needed time. Despite the pregnancy scares, unprotected sex, being that open to each other... No. They weren’t ready for that yet.

“Are you gonna tell Amanda—” Carl questioned him suddenly. Rick gave another look at his son. “Beth smoked, too. I wasn’t the only one.” Carl paused. “In fact, she was the first one.”

Rick sighed.

“Dad—” Carl called out to him, half stopping him. Rick halted his steps, too. “Don’t tell Amanda, please. They always fight now.”

“I know—” Rick replied, holding back another sigh. “I’ll talk to her.” Someone had to. Rick had no idea how _that_ talk would go, but they had no options. Perhaps Glenn would deal with it better, but for now, it fell to Rick. “They fought today again?” he questioned, skipping another look over at his son.

“Yeah,” Carl asserted and retold, “Beth wanted to go with her. She didn’t let her. Said she didn’t know how they worked, so she couldn’t take Beth with her.” A strain entered into his voice as his boy paused. “Said she could come later.” He paused, his brows clenching under his sheriff hat in a way that reminded Rick himself. “I asked her if I could come, she declined—” Carl rasped. “She said she couldn’t.”

Ah. “Carl—”

He cut off Rick, “Because you’re together,” he finished.

Rick understood, but he knew Carl didn’t. He knew his son was angry, barely keeping his temper in check, keeping it…civil. “You got together, and I’m the one who got punished because of it!” Carl reprimanded, his tone low, but the anger he sensed seeping in it.

“Carl—” Rick stopped walking completely. “No one’s punishing you. You have to understand Amanda—”

“Yeah, I _always_ have to understand, don’t I?” he shot back, his tone still in that low hiss, “Even though I don’t _like_ it, I have to accept—” he went on angrily. “Soon she’s gonna start training everyone in the town, but not me, because you fuc—”

“Carl!” Rick’s voice raised, forgetting keeping it civil… If he ever heard that thing again from Carl’s mouth after that disastrous night—

A strained silence befell on them as father and son glared at each other. Bowing his head, Rick pinched the bridge of his nose. “First, she still can train you inside if you want—” Rick started. “But for outside—” Rick paused. He understood her staying abstained, her fear that something would happen to Carl on her watch. Rick didn’t want to put more pressure on her with that kind of responsibility. He just wanted her to…be happy.

“If—if you want, I can take you—or Daryl—” Rick continued, trying to find a common ground.

“Can Daryl?” Carl asked, and Rick frowned.

“Don’t you want me?”

“You’re always too busy—” he said with a shrug. “You can’t find time.”

His words from the cabin, how Rick could never find time for him hit again, and Rick closed the gap between them with quick steps. He placed his hand over his son’s shoulder. “Carl, I can always find time for you.”

Carl gave another shrug, turning aside to start walking again. Rick followed. Soon, Rick found the cabin and started digging for the duffel bag he’d buried under the tree

“What are you looking for?” Carl asked.

“I buried guns here before we went inside—” Rick answered truthfully. “Came to retrieve it.”

“They said carrying arms inside the walls was against the rules.”

“Yeah—” Rick replied, digging.

“Can I have one, too?”

Rick shook his head. Carl’s expression soured. “I’ve only got one. The others are out of bullets. You know we’re short on ammo,” he explained.

He finished a few minutes later, just before a lone wandering walker found them. Rick got to his feet, but before he could go and put it down, Carl walked to it and did it instead.

His jaw squared as Carl looked at him in challenge, but this time Rick kept his mouth shut. He checked the magazine, eyeing the bullets and reloaded. He twisted his arm back and tucked the gun inside his waistline under his shirt and jacket.

“Come on—” Rick motioned his son. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, things have started escalating more for Rick, as his protectiveness after the Claimers became even worse. My beta raised a very good points for him behaving like an asshole, I even editted some parts of this chapter, keeping Rick more on the line, but alas this story is named 'On The Edge' for a reason too.
> 
> He's gonna walk on a very sharp line before he pulls himself back together like in the canon, especially in relationship stuff, because after what happened with the Claimers, I also believe that kind of violence must have an impact on his whole life. Especially emotional and sexual life. It's hard to comparmentalize yourself like that, being sweet and kind, and then turning to a savage beast without lines blurring between. In the canon, he settled down with Michonne after Carl's shooting before Negan, but his journey is gonna be much more complicated here.
> 
> Amanda also thinks she's accepted all of him; the good, the bad, and the ugly, so she's gonna be tested on that, too.
> 
> If you have opinions, like always, I'd be glad to hear them.  
> Until the next chapter!


	6. 'She had come'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Amanda returns from the run, the group decides to spread to the bedrooms.

When she stepped in the living empty room, Amanda realized she’d come back before Rick and the others returned from their venturing. Suppressing a sigh, she dropped the backpack in the corner where they’d left their bed rolls and the quilt between the couch and the new mini rocking crib with wheelers Rick had found for Judith in the daycare.

The mission—well, it’d gone better than she expected, she guessed. Aiden and his team: Nicholas, a man around their age everyone called by his surname - Richards, and Jeffrey. Nicholas and Aiden had an easy-going friendship that Aiden explained was because they’d been together almost since the beginning of the outbreak. Richards and Jeffrey, Aiden only mentioned they were their newest team members. His brows were clenched while the dark-haired man said the words, so Amanda didn’t ask, but understood. The men were the newest additions because they’d lost people.

Things were a bit awkward at first, like Aiden had claimed, a bit too much testosterone, but in the end, they hadn’t met any hostiles, put down a few rotters, and pulled down those ridiculously enormous signs at the roadside. Not bad for a single day. Perhaps it was just her and the tension she’d had before she left, but the men just seemed…too jovial for the job. They even tried to make a bet if Nicholas would make a headshot before Aiden put down the rotter that was coming at him.

“This is not a game,” Amanda had told Aiden, and for a moment or so, the air between them stretched out as the former ROTC cadet’s expression shifted, then a smirk curved his lips upward. He tipped his head at her, semi flirtatiously, and murmured a “yes, ma’am.” 

Amanda let it go. She didn’t know how to describe it, but Aiden Monroe’s boyish charm in a way was…she didn’t know...relaxing? She wasn’t looking attention or anything from the man, or from anyone else, but everything with Rick was overwhelming, was too much. In times like this, Amanda really missed things being simple.

Even when she only planned to sleep a few hours, they had just drifted off and slept a _whole_ day, knocked out! They didn’t look like they were able to do anything in the middle ground.

The tension in the air of the living room though was still palpable. Amanda wondered if something else had happened too after she left. Joan was glaring at the wall in front of her, sitting on the couch with her legs crisscrossed. In the room, there was only Carol, Sasha, and Joan now. Mika and Judith were on a blanket on the rugs, playing with the toys Rick had also brought from the daycare.

Amanda had never been that happy seeing baby toys and a mini crib. Amanda wondered if Judith had slept in the crib last night, but something was telling her the baby girl did not. Peeking inside the crib, after getting closer, she saw the blankets and quilts were unwrinkled. No. Judith had possibly slept with Carl last night.

She moved towards the kids, brushing her hand over Mika’s head briefly before she sat beside them on the rugs. Holding a stuffed orange giraffe in her tiny fist, Judith started wobbling towards her on her hands and knees over a few open books and little toys from a play kitchen on the blanket. The stuffed animal seemed like had piqued her interest, and the books, too, as her other free hand patted them lightly as she crawled further, but she totally ignored the kitchen set. Amanda wasn’t surprised. The poor thing had never seen toys like that before.

Amanda caught Judith as she curled up over her lap, her eyes flickering towards Mika, too. She wondered how the little girl was holding up. Mika definitely looked better now, especially after Carol had joined them, but she was still a ten-year-old who had witnessed a terrible, traumatic event. Mika had never really acknowledged the fact that her sister had shot herself in front of her.

Amanda let out a sigh, making a mental note to talk to Carol about it before she returned her attention to the women. “What happened?” she questioned, moving her eyes to Joan. “Why didn’t you leave with Daryl and Rick?”

She’d thought Joan would still want to learn. But her dark curly haired friend just shook her head bitterly. “Couldn’t—” she hissed.

Amanda shared a brief glance with Carol. “Deanna doesn’t want her to leave the town,” the older woman explained.

“What?” she cried out, but at same time recalled Rick’s words. _She doesn’t let them out. She’s got a priority list._

Amanda almost started laughing, _almost_. Of course, Joan had made onto her priority list, just like Beatrice. Beatrice was the owner of this place, so she had precedence, and Joan’s medical background made her top priority.

Her bitter thoughts almost started again, but Amanda stopped them, seeing Joan’s expression. Joan was pissed. All in honesty, despite the echoing bitterness inside her, if she was in her place, Amanda would’ve been, too.

Just like she’d been pissed at Rick this morning because she was his…priority.

Her hand stopped while she was taking the stuffed animal from her lap after Judith threw it at her face. It still sounded as weird as when Rick had told her covertly, but it was also true. She was Rick’s priority. Because she was his family, too. _Amanda, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to._

She swallowed, giving the stuffed giraffe back to Judith. The truth was that she really didn’t need to go out to make herself useful to keep around, much like Carl or Beth would need to prove themselves. If she just told Rick, she didn’t want to...then Rick would it make possible, Amanda knew he would.

Was it possible to not like something but also find it…endearing, flattering at the same time? Because right now instead of getting annoyed like in the morning, Amanda felt a warmness spreading over her.

Emotions swelled in her chest further, and she barely held herself back from making a gagging sound. Her eyes scanned down on the blanket’s pattern, toys, and children books, but not seeing anything. Amanda stayed like that for a few seconds before she heard Joan’s angry mutter.

“I’m not going to stay in—” Amanda lifted her head. “I will _not_.”

The way Joan uttered the last word made Amanda grow…testier. “Rick and I will talk to her—” she said, giving her friend a look. “You wait for us.”

Joan nodded curtly, then left the room. She heard the door opening and knew the nurse went to the back deck. The back deck had become Joan and Daryl’s…den since the time they’d settled in the house.

The speculations were turning in her mind, too, but it still wasn’t Amanda’s business.

Rick’s group returned a half of an hour later, and Amanda felt another weight lifted off her chest. Being outside was dangerous, all the time. Though Carl and Beth seemed more settled after being allowed to go outside.

The thought gave her a little breath of relief, too, because she couldn’t take any further drama right now. She only wished they would call it a night after dinner. It was getting late, the dusk of the upcoming evening creating a gloomy interior of the house. The shadows were lengthening, but no one tried to turn on the lights. Even with their newfound luxuries, the thought of spending an ample amount of supplies on such trivialities made them uncomfortable.

Carol with the younglings’ help fixed a quick dinner from the supplies, and they ate silently, scattered in the living room and in the kitchen. They’d only turned on a few lights, so they had a gentle, flickering light, the blinds over the windows closed. It reminded Amanda a bit of the church, candlelight flickering, happy, easy chirps of chattering buzzing inside her ear…

She turned off the memory. There was no happy chirping rattling in her ears now—only a soft, whimpering silence, only disturbed by faint murmurs and Judith’s baby noises. Rick was typically outside on the porch, leaving after dinner. Amanda suspected he wouldn’t come back inside tonight after sleeping out the full night yesterday. Maybe shifting a turn for a couple of hours with Glenn—

The outdoor opened and a few seconds later, Rick came in. He was wearing his boots still. He stood in the living room and wandered his eyes around. They lingered on the devices they’d forgotten how to feel about having since the turn: the TV set in the room, the home theater set up around it, the speakers…

“We should settle in the houses—” Rick announced finally, his eyes turning to them. “Both houses. It’s time.”

Amanda let out a subsided sigh. It was time. They couldn’t keep going on like this. “We got six separate bedrooms. We’re nineteen.” Rick continued. “We have to share.”

Then the discussion started. They sent for Joan and Daryl, as they were still outside on the back deck. Three people per room. And one person left out. Daryl was the one who came with the solution.

“There’s the garage—” he reminded them, shrugging. “I can get that. Don’t wanna sleep inside a house, anyways.”

Carol shook her head. “You don’t need to—” she said in return. “There are dens.”

“Nah, prefer outside—” Daryl countered, and they let it go, realizing the roughish man still wanted to have some kind of privacy from house sharing. Amanda almost claimed the second garage, _almost_.

“I take the den—” Glenn claimed the small room, slanted a look at Sasha and Bob and towards them—Rick and her. “If anyone would want to share the room together.” Tactfully, he didn’t name any couple.

“We stay together—” Abraham took it on his own. “Not going to leave Eugene with anyone else.”

That sounded like a…triad, but Amanda couldn’t really understand how their relationship worked. Eugene seemed to be…involved in some ways, but Amanda didn’t know. Not that she had to. It wasn’t her business either.

“We’d like to—” Sasha slowly declared, giving a hesitant look at them to see if anyone wanted to take the small room.

The priest spoke up. “I can. I saw the rooms, better than my office in the church.”

The mention of the place made her stomach coil, her memories returning, but Amanda tried to control her feelings. There were still covert glances at them, but no one made a sound. Amanda caught Carl’s look, too, but ignored it.

“I take Mika—” Carol was the next one. “We can have another one—” With a little bit of surprise, Amanda saw her turning to Joan. “Wanna be roommates with us?” she asked, smiling at the younger woman, holding Mika in front of her, her arms coiled around Mika’s shoulders.

That was the kind, gentle smile Amanda had seen on the woman’s face, the one that was as equally a poker face like Deanna’s. Amanda knew why Carol wanted Joan close.

Daryl.

“We’ll take one of the rooms at the other house—” Noah said, pointing to himself and the other young men they’d found at Terminus. Separating men and women, was what they were doing, Amanda understood covertly, giving each other much needed personal space.

Personal space. She glanced at Rick—who just chose the moment to glance back at her. The brief look exchange was caught by Carl then— “I’m with Beth—” Amanda announced the next second, keeping her voice clear.

She _had to_ be with Beth.

Even the thought of sharing a room together with Rick didn’t make her insides twist like hot coils, she still wouldn’t have left Beth alone, to be with someone else. No. She had to be there for Beth. She’d promised. She had to take care for her, it was her job now.

That left Rick with Carl and Judith. Although no one said it out loud. The next they started moving out. They quickly spread to the houses after the sharing was settled, moving their personal belongings upstairs.

Riccardo, John, Noah, Gabriel all went to the other house. Abraham took the head of that house, tagging Rosita and Eugene, and taking the master bedroom, and Sasha and Bob went with them. Because the division had become quite apparent, too. Rick took the master bedroom with kids, as he was having Judith. He offered it to Carol and Joan first, but they’d refused, saying Judith needed her own bathroom more.

Amanda liked that and almost thanked Carol for her kindness. Beth and Amanda took the next room, and it was no surprise that it was beside the master bedroom. Again, no one said a word about it. Carol, Joan, and Mika took the other one, as Glenn left his stuff in the den on the first floor.

No more getaways for them anymore.

They cleared out the living room quickly after that. Carl and Beth gathered Judith’s new stuff from daycare scattered around and tossed it in the mini crib as Amanda sorted out their mixed stuff inside the packs. Everything was mixed together, but they had so few things left out, they started moving a half an hour later. Rick brought the crib upstairs with Daryl, putting it inside the master bedroom. Rick placed it beside the bed.

Amanda gave half of a smile and passed her fingers over the padded edges. “She’s gonna sleep in her own bed, huh?” she asked, looking at the small thing, her smile inching further.

The idea made her happy. A room to sleep in, a bathroom, a bed. She had toys now, books, paints, play dough, diapers, spare clothes, even talc powder. The things babies—children needed. Even Mika had toys, meant for older children. It wasn’t enough, it never would be enough, but it was something, at least.

She raised her head and smiled at Rick. Carl was still downstairs with Beth, so she leaned a bit further towards him and touched at his right temple with her finger. “Thank you—” she murmured as her fingers brushed the end of his hair.

He didn’t say anything, only leaned forward, dipping his head. His kiss was slow and gentle, his lips like a caress over hers as they traced to the edge of her mouth tenderly. Before Rick became more involved with the kiss, his hand finding his way over the back of her neck, pulling her closer, Amanda drew away an inch and looked at him. 

“Deanna—” she announced lowly, clearing her throat. “We need to talk about her.” Rick nodded. “What she did. Joan doesn’t like it.”

Another nod followed after that as Rick’s expression turned stern, deadly serious. “I don’t like it, either.” he replied and stated after a pause, “I took the gun from outside today.”

She knew what that meant. They needed to protect themselves. They should hope for the best, but plan for the worst. It was the way of their lives now.

“Come out to the porch in an hour—” Rick told her before he left the room.

Rick knew that, too.

When she came out to the porch after a quick shower, it was already nighttime, and the town had fallen into that eerie, peaceful silence once more. Rick and Daryl were staring outside from the porch’s railings as Carol stood at the corner of the beams, watching them.

There was no one else. “This ain’t good, man—” Daryl muttered, his tone still bearing anger boiling underneath. “When shit like first priority starts—other shit follows, too—” he bristled.

Who was disposable, and who was not. Which could be expendable for the greater good, what they could turn a blind eye to, how far.

Amanda had seen that story before. It didn’t have a happy ending, and it was clear where people like her or Daryl stood on Deanna’s totem pole.

“I buried a gun before we came—” Rick informed them quietly. “Took it today when we were out—” He glanced at Daryl, who shot a look at him. “But we need more. It’s almost out of bullets, too. We need ammo.” He paused. “We need to get into that armory. We gotta be prepared.”

“For what?” Amanda asked, turning to him, even though she already knew.

The look Rick gave her back told the same story. “We’re not losing this place,” Rick replied firmly, returning his gaze outside. “Either we find a common ground, or else we take it,” he stated straightforwardly, without mincing the words.

There was little to add after that, or little to discuss, so they all went inside again, apart from Daryl, who opted to move to the back deck once more.

Carol slipped up the staircase like a ghost even before they reached the bottom of the staircase. By the time they made it to the little hall on the second floor, Carol had disappeared into her own room on the other side. They slowly padded to the opposite direction. There was that apprehensive tension between them now straining in the silence. The short path to their rooms in the hallway felt like it was taking ages even though it was only about a dozen feet long.

Amanda stood in front of her door, next to the master bedroom, and glanced at Rick. The anxious feeling flooded her even worse as they looked at each other in silence.

“Uh—” She made a noise…and her glance turned to the door for a split second… “I haven’t slept in an actual bed for years—” she muttered.

Rick gave her a little, tired smile. “Me neither.”

She flicked her eyes at him again. “Feels weird, huh?”

Rick bobbed his head lowly. “Yeah…”

Amanda sighed. “Have a good night, Rick—” she opened the door and slipped inside before he could utter another word.

Inside, she closed the door and rested her back against it, her blood drumming inside her ears—her head buzzing—

Amanda stared at the bed—the empty bed…her eyes darted down, and she saw Beth curled up on the hardwood floor over the bedrolls.

# # #

At the foot of the bed, there was a pajama bottom. Carl was in the king size bed, nestled against his baby sister, his arm loosely over her small torso and holding her close as they slept together.

A smile broke over Rick’s lips. He closed in on the bed and looked at his children—in each other’s arms. He stayed there for a while, just watching them, listening to their breathing, a calm serenity filling him. No—he wouldn’t lose this place. He could not. His family couldn’t lose _this_. His mind twirled to Amanda on its own, and the craving in him was so strong, was so…powerful, he almost went outside and asked her to pass the night with them, with him again. He—he wanted her here.

He heaved out a deep breath and took the pajama bottoms Carl had left for him. Maybe one night—

_I need time—_

Taking a quick shower in the bathroom inside the room, Rick changed into the dark grey pajama bottoms and donned a clean basic white tee before walking to the bed in bare feet. It felt so weird, doing it after so many years of hardship, preparing for sleep in this fashion - taking a shower, brushing his teeth, wearing his pajamas, and walking to a bed, but Rick forced the thought away from him. Gently, so he wouldn’t wake the kids, he took Judith and laid her in the mini crib.

Carl moved on the bed, his arm free, and rolled over to the opposite edge. Rick sat down and leaned back, crawling under the covers, but before he could rest his head on the pillow, Judith woke up.

Rick heaved a sigh. He sat up in the bed, turning on the lamp on the bed stand as Carl rolled on his side. As a soft gentle light filled in the room, Rick swung his legs over the edge, his feet touching the hardwood. He reached out and started rocking the crib, but seeing him in the dimly lit room, Judith just made more wheezing sounds. A second later, she raised her tiny arms for him to pick her up.

Rick didn’t.

He knew they were going to have a hard time until Judith became habituated to sleep alone in her crib again, but this… No. He couldn’t even put his head on the pillow.

As soon as Rick rocked the crib instead of picking her up, her arms stayed up in the air, and the soft, sobbing wheezes turned to loud whimpering then to full cries. Carl stirred and turned to him, his chest half drawn up from the bed, resting on his elbow. “Dad--?” he asked sleepily, looking at them. “Why are you making her cry?”

Rick shot a look at his son over his shoulder. “She needs to sleep in her bed.”

“Well, she’s crying, dad—” Carl pointed out.

Without answering his obvious deduction, Rick turned to the baby girl. “Judy—baby girl—you have to sleep there—” he told the crying baby, heaving out another sigh.

“Noo—” the baby girl wheezed out her first and seeming favorite word between her cries, “Nooo—"

“Dad, she’s gonna wake up everyone!” Carl’s tone hitched. “Pick her up!”

“No!” Rick answered in the same tone. “Go back to sleep.”

“I can’t sleep when she keeps wailing!”

Rick tossed another glance over his shoulder, his hand rocking the crib, Carl holding it as Judith cried more with her baby noos…the tension rising more and more together with the sounds…

The door cracked open in the heated moment. Their heads whipped towards it as Amanda, clad in a dark emerald silk dressing gown, slipped inside barefooted. Her eyes fell on them at the same time they started at her—Judith still crying in the background…

Her hair was loose, brushing over her shoulders, and she looked so good, so beautiful, Rick could still only stare at her before Amanda scooted to the crib.

# # #

Seeing Beth sleeping in that fashion on the hard floor felt like a polished sharp blade slipped in her chest. Her eyes hurt as she swallowed through her tight throat. She moved away from the door and started walking to the teenage girl slowly.

She knelt beside her on the floor and put her hand over Beth’s shoulder gently. She wasn’t sleeping, Amanda knew she wasn’t, but Beth still didn’t react.

“Beth—” Amanda called out. “Honey, please.”

Beth didn’t react. Amanda laid down behind her on the hardwood parquet and held her from behind, facing the bed. If she wasn’t going to sleep on the bed, Amanda wasn’t, either. “Go to bed—” Beth said as soon as she settled herself, her hand gently laying across the teenager’s belly. “I know you still have muscle pain—” she continued. “Go sleep in the bed. I even found a chemise and dressing gown for you.”

Her neck craned up and Amanda caught a glimpse of the dark emerald. “Hmm mm—” she said, dipping back. “If you come to bed, too.”

“I’m fine here—”

“Then I’m fine here, too—” Amanda cut her off, nestling her head against the skinny shoulder.

“You’re trying to play with my conscience—” Beth grumbled.

Amanda laughed softly. “Is it working?” she asked with a tone she hoped was innocent enough, still laughing.

In answer, Beth rewarded her with a small laugh. She raised up. “Okay, fine—” She stood up as Amanda raised on her elbow, too. “You won.” The teenager looked down at her. “I guess I’ve still got a soft heart.”

Amanda grinned, getting to her feet. “Of pure gold.” She eyed the bed and the silken chemise and dressing gown and turned to Beth. “Are there more of them?” she asked.

Beth gave her a look. “The closet had a few, too. A few clothes and these. I guess she just left them.” Amanda nodded, walking to the wardrobe. “Thought the emerald hue would go well with your eyes.”

Sitting on the bed’s edge, next to the lingerie, Amanda ran her fingers over the silk cloth, tracing the trimmed lace bust area. It was a delicate thing, elegant and sexy, something that didn’t look like you should wear in the apocalypse. Her face settling, her mind made up, she lifted her head up.

“Come on—” she urged Beth forward with her hand. “Go find the one you like. We’ll put them on, do our hair, and then sleep like this in the bed.” She patted beside her hip, grinning.

The first time in their room, they were going to be pretty. Then sleep.

Beth tossed her a lopsided grin back. “I saw some makeup stuff in the drawers, too.”

Amanda wondered to whom this room belonged to really, because it wasn’t the master bedroom, but she wasn’t going to question her luck. “Excellent.”

She stood up, scooping up her treasures and went behind the dressing screen in the room as Beth started looking for herself. As she peeled off her clothes and underwear, she tried to recall the last time she had ever worn something that sexy. The silk chemise slipped over her body like a feather, and Amanda checked the tag and saw that it was one of those luxury high-end lingerie brands. Not that she was surprised. The quality and delicateness of the silk had already made her figure out.

She twisted her head and looked at the mirror at the other side, catching a glimpse of herself. The dark rich emerald was making a different hue with her fair complexion and her brown hair, the green of her eyes reflecting the soft light in the room as they turned a shade darker.

Amanda raised her hands and loosened her hair, too, pulling off her hair tie. She passed her hands through her hair, combing her locks with her fingers, flipping it for volume. She even tossed her head down and tousled the roots of her still wet hair.

Straightening up, she checked herself again—and for a moment wished…Rick could see her like this—see her…pretty like this.

She really looked pretty and really wished Rick could see it. Reaching out for the silken robe, Amanda put it on. Maybe later.

When…when things became…less than what they were. This was for Beth and her, girls having a good time together, like a sleepover. Dolling up, getting pretty just for the fun of it, something Amanda had never done before.

Tying the silk belt of the gown around her waist loosely, Amanda walked out from behind the screen. With each move, the dressing gown shifted against her legs smoothly as Amanda felt—felt…very womanly.

It was an odd feeling, something she didn’t usually feel. Most of the time, Amanda didn’t feel…feminine. There were times she used to party while dressing accordingly, but even then, she was always so curt, so blunt, so uptight, but perhaps she just should’ve worn more dressing gowns. The thought almost made her laugh. She’d never had any dressing gowns before, nor any lingerie of this kind. Her underwear was mostly practical stuff, sports bras and bikini briefs, even the lace bra she’d found on the run had felt different.

Catching up with her, Beth eyed her, her look measuring, then a kind smile broke out. “You look very beautiful, Amanda.”

Amanda felt a blush warm her cheek at the compliment. “Thank you—” she said lowly. “It—it feels different—” she confessed. “But I like it.”

Beth gave her another look. “Maggie used to have lingerie like this—” There was an expression in her face now, nostalgic and sorrowful, but not in anger, not of pain, or vacant emptiness. “She was hiding ‘em in her room,” Beth went on. “But I found ‘em.”

She padded towards the teenage girl and hugged her tightly. Wordlessly, they stayed in each other’s embrace for a while, just hugging each other. Then Beth stepped out of her arms. “How about this?” Raising her arm, she showed Amanda another chemise of dark navy. There was some lacework around the deep neckline again, but other than it was as simple and delicate as hers.

“Very pretty—” Amanda told her, too, with a smile.

She turned and walked to the small vanity table in the room facing the bed. “Come here—” the girl called her, waving a hand.

Still smiling, Amanda went to her. She sat on the cushioned short stool in front of the vanity and looked up at Beth. The teenager opened the drawer, and Amanda caught a glimpse of a photo frame inside beside the makeup products. Both pretended the frame wasn’t there. Perhaps—perhaps they should just return them to Deanna, clearing out the house, and Deanna could store them as keepsakes.

It felt wrong living in a house with those photo frames still here. Amanda decided to bring it up to someone tomorrow as Beth took a brush and started applying some shade of a soft warm brown in earth tones over the crease of Amanda’s eyes.

The teenager blended the shade with a practiced ease that made Amanda a bit surprised. Beth set the brush down and took the eyeliner. “Close your eyes.” The instruction came before she started drawing a line with the black liner.

“Do you know how to do this, right?” Amanda mouthed, careful not to mess up her work, her eyes tightly closed as she was ordered. Beth seemed to have practice, but it never hurt to ask.

“Hmm mm—” Beth answered. “Maggie and I used to paint each other a lot in summer breaks,” she said with that tone again. “Open your eyes. Look—” She waved her hand in the mirror.

Amanda twisted aside and checked it. “It looks very nice, Beth,” she said, turning to the girl again with a small smile.

Beth nodded.

She wasn’t kidding. The warm light shade had made the green of her eyes more pronounced as the thin black line over the dip of her lashes popped them out. Beth took the mascara next, and started doing her lashes, turning her eyelashes sharper, blacker, and Amanda thought she really looked _pretty_ now.

Beth whistled lowly. “Very nice, huh?”

Amanda nodded, this truly grinning. “Yeah.” Beth lightly dabbed blush on her cheekbones with a puff brush. “Don’t look so bad, huh?” she asked, turning to the mirror again. The makeup was barely there, but Amanda really felt like another woman.

“Hmm mm—” Beth hummed.

Amanda looked up at the girl once more, craning her head up. “Come on, let’s do you too—”

She stood up. Sitting on the stool Amanda had evacuated, Beth gazed at her critically. “Do you know how?”

Amanda laughed softly. “Beth Greene, there was a time I used to be a party girl.”

Beth gave her a skeptical look as Amanda picked up the blending brush. “You? Partying?” she asked with disbelief.

She let out another small laughter. “Yeah, I know. I got bored eventually. Too loud. Too crowded.” Amanda tossed the teenager another grin. “Wanna a rave makeup—?”

Beth nodded eagerly.

Amanda rummaged through the products. “Well—” she said with a sigh. “I guess she was going for classics,” she commented looking at high-end classic palettes. “No glitter or metallics. Gonna have to do it old school, I guess.”

She found the darkest blue and purple and mixed it with a bit black until she reached the intense smoky dark tones she was looking for. She applied the shade over Beth’s eyelids, not timidly. It was for fun, so she got…crazy, appropriately for a rave, and blended the dark shadow over up to her temples.

Putting the eyeshadow aside, Amanda took the eyeliner and made a full cat eyeliner with a long flicking end and put on a lot of mascara. She chose soft peaches for her cheekbones and, putting a dark red lipstick on the curve of her hand, she dabbed the red with a generous amount of dark navy and purple eyeshadow she’d used for the eyes until she had that glinting red-blue hue she aimed for.

Amanda took a step back, eyeing her handiwork, then leaning back down again, she dabbed the red-blue hue on her tear ducts before she took the eyeliner again. She started making a delicate hook under one of her eyes, drawing it up to her temple for the dramatic effect. Satisfied, Amanda stepped back once more and nodded.

“How is it?” she asked.

Beth twisted aside towards the mirror. “It’s—different.” The reply came together with a laugh.

“It’s supposed to—” Amanda shot back. “Go change your clothes.”

While Beth changed to her own lingerie, Amanda took off the long robe and pulled back the bed’s covers. She slipped inside in her chemise and lay on her back on the clean sheets.

Amanda could feel the soft mattress under her, shifting together with her as she stirred. There were no roots poking at her, no uneven ground, no crunching foliage, and no hard floor biting. The pillow under her head was as soft as the mattress. She wondered if she could manage a wink of sleep tonight. It felt so different, so out of place for a moment, that she almost crawled down and lay on the hard floor like Beth had done.

She stared at the ceiling, feeling it coming down on her. Her breath started getting short. The bed, the softness, the silken touch of her lingerie as she moved over the sheet, they were all wrong— _wrong_ —

She made a move, half jerked up out of the covers, but Beth just came out from behind the screen, looking at her with that look, all of that nostalgic easiness gone off her face. Amanda felt like she could cry.

Her eyes hurt, pricking. She drew back and rested herself against the headboard. Wordlessly, Beth walked to the bed and climbed on it. The teenager sat beside her in the bed in the same fashion, resting her back against the headboard, and looking all pretty in her dark blue lingerie with her rave makeup.

“We’re not going to sleep tonight, are we?” Beth asked in a small voice.

Amanda shrugged. “I guess not. We—we need time,” she repeated what she’d told Rick.

They stayed silent for a while before Beth stated in that same small voice. “You’re gonna start teaching us again?”

“Hmm mm.”

“I want to learn how to fight. Properly. Not only self-defense, but how to _attack_ —” she stated, her tone heated. “Can we do it?”

Amanda turned and looked at the girl. She didn’t know, but she was too tired to talk, right now. “I was thinking of a course,” she replied. “We’ll talk later.”

Taking her cue, Beth slowly lowered herself in the bed as Amanda did also.

Beth twisted her head again on the pillow. “You really look pretty, Amanda—” the teenager told her, this time her voice almost sounding innocent. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the next room? I bet Carl is already asleep like a log.” Amanda scoffed. “You can say you confused the rooms, returning from the bathroom. Oops.”

This time she couldn’t help it, she let out a soft giggle. “Guess I’m gonna pass tonight.”

“It’s Rick’s loss.”

Amanda laughed softly again before they fell into another silence. She slipped under the covers, staring at the ceiling, with Beth doing the same next to her. Getting hot, she yanked the quilt halfway down her breasts and draped her arm across her chest. She tried to remember how it felt sleeping with Rick on the couch, the weight of his hands on her, one hand gently rubbing her breast, the other just holding her, tucked inside her pants.

She stirred, remembering the feeling, a tug inside her pulling—the silken lingerie rose up over her hips as she wriggled. Amanda felt fresh soft sheets under her bare skin, the feel of wrongness finding her again. She shifted her legs. Grady’s hospital beds were never like this. Their sheets were always starched and sturdy. She wondered if the others were sleeping or having it feel foreign like them—

In the silence, she heard something. Amanda perked up halfway from the pillow just like Beth, listening intently, then recognized what she’d heard: soft baby wheezes.

Judith was crying.

As she lay motionless, her stomach twisted.

Beth was silent beside her as they listened to the baby girl’s soft cries until they started picking up. Judith was getting angry. Even from this room, Amanda could tell. Judith had a temper as worse as Rick, and when she got angry, she made sure everyone _knew_ it.

“Amanda—” Beth called out.

She didn’t answer.

“Amanda—” Beth tried again. “Won’t you go?”

Staring at the ceiling, she shook her head. “No. Rick has it under control.”

Beth scoffed. “It doesn’t sound like it to me…” she muttered.

Amanda shook her head again. “I can’t, Beth—”

“Why not?”

Amanda turned to look at the teenager, recognizing her own words. “It’s—it’s—”

“—is appropriate now,” Beth sustained, making another reference to the prison.

But no. It still didn’t work like that. “Carl—” she started, but her words hushed as Judith let out a wail, and Amanda heard faint voices from the other side of the wall closer to them—Rick and Carl. Heaving out a deep sign, she threw back the covers and took the dressing gown she’d dropped over the foot of the bed. She slipped inside it quickly and tied the belt over her waist before she left the room.

She tried not to think how she looked, wearing only a chemise under a dressing gown, her feet bare, her face still having makeup applied. With a shaking breath, silencing all of her raving thoughts, Amanda tried to steady herself and cracked the door open.

Despite all of her reservations, despite hearing Judith’s cries and Rick and Carl’s heating voices, it took a few seconds before she could gather enough courage to step inside.

When she did, she pushed the door closed behind her and stared at them—stared at the scene. Carl was half sat up in the bed, supporting his half-twisted torso on one elbow. Rick was rocking the crib on the opposite side of the bed, only clad in a pajama bottoms and a white basic tee, trying to soothe the baby girl—

They were both staring at her now as Amanda stood frozen in the doorway, looking at them wildly. She’d never seen Rick like this. She’d seen him in many different ways: bloodied, beaten, worn out, but never like this.

A second later, she noticed his feet were also bare. Their eyes moved and found each other, and they shared a brief look… Judith’s cries were in her ears as Rick’s glinting eyes honed in on her, so intimate, so intense, a tug in her chest, and a fluttering inside her core with each breath—

She felt light, a strong urge to run away rising up in her, but she was here now. She had come. Straightening her back, Amanda moved away from the door and scurried to Judith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, Amanda has come! In the same room with Rick!  
> With a few addition; Carl and Judith :) When I made Amanda not going to Rick in the prison when Judy was crying in the middle of night, I was having that idea of making her to go to him in Alexandria. Needlessly to say, I waited for a loooong time for this chapter too!  
> The next three chapters will cover the night and the following morning, hehe, becasue they (and me) deserved it! Hehe.


	7. 'Stay'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Rick wants her to stay with him for the night, Amanda will need to make a decision.

When she moved, it looked like she was gliding over the floor more than walking. There was a graceful air around her as the silky fabric of the long, elegant robe brushed her slim legs with each hurried step, and when she got closer, Rick noticed she looked…different, so beautiful, but different. Makeup, she was wearing makeup.

Rick just kept staring. Carl was the same, looking at her as if he was seeing another woman. But she _truly_ looked beautiful. Her head bowed, pointedly away from their open scrutiny, Amanda approached the mini crib and scooped Judith up in her arms.

She draped the baby girl over her shoulder as she finally raised her head and tossed Rick a half glare.

“Why are you making her cry?” she asked, her voice sounding pissed as she gently rubbed Judy’s back with her right hand. Judith’s hand instantly went to her hair as his baby girl sobbed on Amanda’s shoulder with soft hiccups.

“I told him so—” Carl supported Amanda with a scoff as Rick sat on the bed beside him.

Rick heaved a sigh. “Wanted her to sleep in her bed.”

“Rick—” Her tone took a note on almost chiding, towing Judith closer. “Adaptation takes time. She’s been sleeping with you for weeks now,” she went on with the same slow tone before she added, “She needs time.”

With that, his gaze found her again. They exchanged another brief glance. Her eyes—it was hard to decide their color now in the dimly lit room when the emerald hue of her robe placed a haze in them. They looked captivating, her usual mossy green turned so deep and so…green. Rick felt like he could look at them for an eternity and still not see the bottom.

Rick saw her drawing in a low breath. She twisted aside, breaking their eye contact, and started pacing the room, her hand still sliding over Judy’s back. With a rustle of sheets, Carl stood up.

“I’m going downstairs—” his son declared, heading to the door.

Realizing that Carl didn’t want to be in the same room with them right now, Rick let him. He could understand. This was getting awkward, more than Rick had thought. Amanda’s back was still to them, as if she felt the same as she swayed on her feet—her bare feet, rocking Judith in her arms.

Her silhouette in the soft light etched on his eyes. The long robe had made her hour-glass figure even more evident, her tiny waist pronounced with the silk belt, her tight small ass rounding around the silken fabric as she arched the small of her back a little to support Judith.

The long flowing skirts of it were draping gracefully around her legs like a waterfall. Rick’s gaze traced the length of it until it finished around her feet. With each sway her feet made, the hems of the skirt brushed her ankles, and Rick caught the glimpse of the little tattoo over her right inner ankle again; the tiny ink circle, the symbol he’d seen Beth draw at the tree where they’d buried Maggie under.

The sight of it combined with everything else made him stir in his pajama pants as he imagined kissing her ankle just right there.

He wanted to do it. Amanda had ankles so tiny, so delicate. He wanted to wrap his fingers around it, bring her foot up to his lips, kiss her ankle, run his tongue over it, make up his way up to her inner thighs, peppering her smooth skin with kisses. Then—then—he would kiss her just right there as she squirmed with anticipation of his kisses.

Rick had never done it. Hadn’t tasted her yet. He wanted to do it. Wanted it _terribly_. He wanted it so terribly, he almost stood up and pushed her against the door and dropped on his knees in front of her. What was she wearing under that robe? The urge to find out rose in him, but then his eyes fell on Judith.

Instead of calming the desire he felt simmering inside him, the sight of them together made it even worse as the feeling hit him strongly. This—this was what he _wanted._ He wanted her like this. Not going out, risking her life without him. It felt wrong, it felt—

Amanda turned to him. “She’s slept,” she announced in a small voice as Rick stared at her, taken up with his own musings, thoughts he didn’t know how to handle.

Bowing his head still sitting on the edge of the bed, Rick nodded. “Thank ya.”

Amanda walked back to the crib slowly, her robe’s hems sliding over her feet, but Rick tried not to look at it. He didn’t trust himself anymore.

Leaning over the crib's railings, Amanda lay down Judith before she drew up. “I—I should go.” Hearing the murmured words, his head jerked up. “Carl will be coming back.”

Rick gave a half nod. A slight frown appeared over her eyebrows. She looked…surprised.

Did she expect him to ask her to stay? Waited for him to make a move? Amanda had never been good at making first moves, but she had come. She couldn’t let Judith cry and stay next door, but she had come—perhaps for more?

 _And I’m still here, Rick,_ he recalled her words from the woods.

He opened his mouth to ask her to stay, stay with him. He _really_ wanted to have a whole night with her alone. Just two of them. Even though she still wasn’t ready yet, he just wanted her to be with him. In the bed. He’d told her before he didn’t plan to spend it sleeping, but they could do other stuff…lay down…watch a movie, perhaps read together.

There was a small TV and DVD player in the room, and the book Amanda had brought to Carl from their supply run was on the bed stand on Carl’s side. They could lay down and read it together. He just wanted her at his side. In his arms. “Aman—”

He was cut before he could even utter her name by Judith’s soft cries. Amanda’s head whipped down as she almost jerked on her feet at the interruption. Judith held the crib's guard rails and pulled herself up, puffing out sobbing breaths. She raised her tiny arm towards Amanda immediately after seeing her again.

Amanda heaved a sigh before she started softly laughing. “We just put you down, baby girl,” she called out to Judith, shaking her head.

A smirk played across Rick’s lips. “Adaptation takes time, huh?”

She raised her eyes at him under her bowed head. “Don’t be a smartass, Deputy.”

Rick chuckled lowly. Amanda took Judith up again and padded around to sit beside him on the bed. Rick reached out to them as she passed Judith over to her left shoulder. Amanda shook her head, twisting away from his hands. “It’s okay—” she murmured to the baby.

His hand shifting, Rick passed a hand at the side of her head and tucked a lock of her hair over the back of her ear. “You look very beautiful,” he told her softly.

Even in the dim lights, Rick saw her blush. “Thanks—” she murmured. “Beth found them in the room. The others left them behind, I guess. We found some makeup stuff, too.” She waved her free hand over her face.

Rick ran his fingers over the robe’s neckline. “It’s very beautiful.”

“Yeah—” she said, hoisting up Judith a little as the baby girl stopped crying once she was back in her arms, drooling over her left shoulder sleepily. Rick chuckled. “And Judy is giving you a stain.”

She dipped her head down, twisting it to the other side, and from her profile, Rick saw a gentle smile flickering over her lips. She shrugged.

They stayed silently for a few minutes until Judith completely stayed still. Amanda turned to him. “Do you think we try again?” she asked.

Rick shrugged his shoulders. “You’re the expert.”

With a half eye-roll, Amanda rose to her feet and leaned over the crib to put Judy down as Rick watched—her backside, the round, small bump of her ass… Giving in the temptation, his hand shot up, and he caressed the swell of her hip, rubbing his palm over her right buttock.

She jumped slightly as she drew up and whirled to face him. “You look so beautiful, Amanda—” Rick whispered to her in a murmur, standing up, his eyes fixated on hers.

He snagged her wrist, and pulling her gently against her chest, he walked backward to the bed. “Stay—” he murmured over her lips, angling his head down. “Stay with me tonight.”

The back of his knees hit the bed’s edge. “Rick—” His name on her lips was all but a moan.

“Please—” He leaned in further and kissed her.

She let him.

In a second, they tumbled into the bed, Rick falling on his back. Moving himself upward over the bed by pushing with his feet, he dragged her along with him, his arms tightly coiled around her to suspend her lithe form over him.

Her legs were between his as he’d tucked them in, his hardness pressed on her groin as she fitted against him perfectly. Rick felt it again; felt it running through his veins; she was made for him, fitting to his edges perfectly… Resting himself back on the pillows, Rick rolled them over and tucked her under him.

Rick wanted to look at her. He wanted to watch her as he fucked her slowly, gently, taking his sweet time as he stroked himself in her depths like in his dreams. He wanted to see every expression she made as he did it, every moan, every groan as she tried to keep herself silent, her nails clawing at his back as she wrapped her legs around his waist tighter.

The image was so powerful, his cock throbbed painfully—twitching to get inside her—feel her heat, feel her fluttering, beating around himself like a pulse, clenching him.

“Amanda—” he murmured, leaning over her further, nestling himself further between her legs, grinding against her core. Heat was spreading over him; she felt like aflame on him, her hotness, her heat; she was his flame, and he was drawing to her center like a moth.

His hand started untying the belt around her waist. He wanted to see what lay under, wanted to slip off the robe, wanted to see those slim ivory-hued legs, that graceful ivory-toned bosom he’d spied before. He wanted to caress every inch of her body, he wanted to kiss every inch of her skin—her plains, her curves, her hidden places. He wanted to taste her, suck her in the places no one but him could see.

Loosening the belt, his hand crawled down through the folds of silken fabric and slithered between her legs.

His lips peppered small kisses under her jaw over to her ear as his hand brushed her wet entrance beneath the lace underwear. A thong. His breath hitched, realizing it as Amanda made a whimper in return, so soft. Combined together, they incited the desire in him even more.

“Amanda—” Rick called out her name again. He didn’t know what to say. He wanted to say he always wanted her at his side now. He wanted to say he couldn’t dream a life without her anymore. He wanted to say he loved her…

He tilted his chin up for a long, long kiss, but twisting her head aside, Amanda avoided his lips.

“Rick—we—we—” she slurred the words hoarsely, gripping his shoulders. “We—we can’t.” She tightened her grip. “Judith—”

As the name left her mouth in a whisper, Rick closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

Judith.

They couldn’t do it. They weren’t ready. Rick could keep her quiet, but Amanda wasn’t ready to have sex with him while Judith was sleeping beside them. Time…they needed time.

The words echoed in his mind as Rick forced himself to settle down once again.

Rick drew upright, rolling himself off her towards the bed’s edge, and slid back against the cushioned headboard. Amanda was still laying at his other side, staring at the ceiling, making no attempt to tidy up herself. She looked dazzled as she sprawled out, her legs bent at the knees in a slight angle, her right arm extended.

The open belt created a slit in her robe, where Rick spied a chemise in the same rich emerald tones. Rick knew now what she wore under that. His breath hitching, his cock throbbing painfully in his pajama pants, he drew his eyes away and bowed his head.

He kept his eyes trained in front of him. If he looked at her a second longer before he was cooled off, he knew he would lose it. Lose it completely.

They stayed like that for a while, both not talking. Rick stared down, his hardness still throbbing with each breath he took as Amanda just stared at the ceiling motionlessly. Then Judith started whimpering again.

With a sigh, Rick moved over to the bed’s edge and held the mini crib. As the little minx poked her head out of the crib’s edge, Rick couldn’t help himself anymore. He began laughing softly.

Losing the fight, Rick picked up the baby girl, and returning to the bed, he tucked her against his chest as he settled down in the bed, pushing himself up against the headboard. When he did, he also saw Amanda start stirring. She turned her head aside and gave them a look, and her lips started curving upward, too.

And she looked so, _so_ beautiful. Rick wondered if she would look like this each morning after sleep. “Should learn by now when a battle is lost,” he murmured, reflecting her smile back.

At his words, Amanda smiled further. She wrapped the gown around her in a twirl of silk and rolled on her side. Watching them, she lifted her hand up and touched Judith’s back gently. “Yeah. She’s as much as a stubborn mule as her daddy—” she whispered.

Rick scoffed. “Look who’s talking.”

She moved to kneel, baring an ample amount of bare skin through the slit and disheveled neckline of the robe, his snowflake necklace dangling just under her collarbone. Amanda never took it off. She leaned down toward Judith and kissed the top of her head as his baby girl slowly fell asleep again in his arms.

Then Amanda swung her feet over the bed and started standing up.

Freeing one hand from Judith, Rick caught her wrist before she fully raised to her feet. “Stay—” he whispered at her. “You—you can still stay.”

She deeply heaved. “Rick—it—it’s not a good idea.”

He shook his head. “We don’t have to have sex. We could sleep. Like last night.” He looked at her, and his tone turned almost imploring. “Please. Stay.”

She stayed motionless for a few seconds at the bed’s edge, staring at him as Rick still held her wrist. Then silently, she crawled towards his other side again, as Rick rolled the crib to the bed’s side to provide a makeshift bedrail and laid Judith down next to him on the bed. He crawled down the bed and brought the little sofa at the foot of the bed beside the crib to completely block the edge for Judith. Satisfied, Rick crawled back up the bed.

Amanda gazed at Judith, the baby girl softly puffing in her sleep as Rick settled himself between them. His left arm reached out and tucked Amanda under it as she snuggled against his chest, half sitting, half laying. The slit of the gown revealed her bare legs again, and when Rick tilted his head down, he caught the glimpse of her décolletage, and again, his necklace.

The sight of it like that this time gave Rick such a stir his stomach coiled. He wanted to feel her, touch her… His hand around her hip slid up over the curve of her side before slipping underneath the silk cloth. Rick cupped her small, perky breast.

Her eyes raised and found his, but Amanda didn’t react to his fondling. Rick didn’t push it, either, only kept his hand there as he gently rubbed her softness like he’d done last night. Even with groping, the gesture was soothing him. He ran his palm over her nipple softly as he dipped his head and a light kiss on the top of her head. It made her snuggled against him closer as she almost purred, throwing her right leg between his. The act exposed her leg to his sight until her hip through the slit in the robe. God. Rick wished she always could come to his bed like this.

The thought, the sight of her gave him another stir, but Rick forced himself to focus on something else as his eyes trailed down along the slender leg and thought of the tiny tattoo on the inner part of her right ankle.

All things considered; it was a curious thing. Amanda wasn’t the…type of girl you would expect to have tattoos. The placement of it was also curious, where it would stay almost invisible. But that part made sense. Her wanting to keep it secret, guarding her secrets like she usually did.

The thought rose affection in him, quenching the burning fire. Rick wondered what the design meant. He knew it meant something. Amanda wouldn’t literally etch something on her skin unless it meant something to her.

“Amanda—” Rick called out softly, still making lazy rubs over her breast. “That tattoo… what is it?”

She blinked at him a few times, craning her neck to gaze at him. Then twisting aside, she looked down, raising her foot an inch higher over his. “This—?” she asked, turning back to him. Rick saw a slight smirk appearing over her lips. “It’s a reminder for me not to drink absinthe.”

Tilting his head down, Rick arched a brow.

Amanda softly giggled. “I was into partying for a while when I was at the community college. Like a semester. I got bored eventually, but got this after a drunken night.” She waved her ankle lightly, almost playful.

Rick shook his head, smiling. “I don’t think I can manage to imagine you as a party girl no matter how much I try.”

She huffed. “I know.” She looked up at him again. “Even got my hair dyed green once.”

“No.”

She nodded with a soft giggle. “ _I know._ Don’t worry. It passed quickly.”

Flicking his eyes down, Rick gave her another smile. He felt himself relaxing, even his hardness settling down. It was soothing, having her like this, curled up against his side like a cat, a well-pampered, well-taken care of, lavish cat. The thought, the sight of her took him again.

Rick had made it. He hadn’t found her this elegant robe, but he’d brought her here, made it possible. Found them a home, where she could lay down with him in a bed like a graceful feline, clad in a luxurious lingerie. Rick felt a strong surge of relief and contentment washed over him.

Amanda—the woman he loved should be like this. The _feeling_ was with him once more, rising in him strongly, the urge to protect her, keep her safe, keep her like _this_. They had to talk. He needed to tell her. He needed to tell her it wasn’t just that he didn’t like her being out.

He didn’t want her to do legwork, wanted them to focus on their relationship instead, figure out each other like they’d talked before, get to know each other better without the stress of life-or-death situations. If they had to do stuff, they would, but Rick didn’t want her to go on runs constantly endangering herself.

But it wasn’t a discussion for tonight. Having her like this felt so good, that he just didn’t want anything to disturb their peace. Rick had missed it, the simplicity of it and the serene calmness. Even before the turn, things had become so strained with Lori, they couldn’t have these kinds of peaceful moments between couples.

Couples.

Rick liked the ring of it. They were a couple now, true partners.

He tipped his head as Amanda tucked hers against his shoulder even further. Her eyes were already half closed languidly, even though the green haze was still shimmering in them. “What does it mean?” Rick asked, inclining his right foot upward in the air as the act made hers rise too. “It’s a symbol, right?”

He recalled he’d seen it before, but couldn’t pinpoint what it was. Amanda nodded lingeringly. It was as if her whole body had moved into slow motion. Every move she made now was languorous, as silky as the gown she was wearing. Her agility was still there, the cool and curt edges, just softened in his arms for a while. The notion gave him a manly stir, something in his chest tugging as he wondered _what_ he could do to have her like this in his arms every night.

“It’s ouroboros,” Amanda answered his question. “A symbol for the circle of life. Birth. Death. Rebirth.”

Surprised, Rick shot her a look, dipping his head again. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

Amanda did yoga, but he had never thought her of being into its spiritual part. She ran, did workouts, and those move-flow sequences she performed one after another effortlessly, but Rick had never seen her mediate before.

“Not really. I just liked the notion, I guess—” she admitted. “But it wouldn’t be bad, huh?” She propped her chin up on his shoulder and looked at him, but her green eyes now had a serious curiosity. “Are you religious, Rick? Do you believe in God?”

His eyes moving down, Rick looked back at her. They never asked each other these kinds of personal questions. Her asking it openly made something in his stomach shift. Rick shook his head. The last time he’d tried, the last time he wanted to believe there was more to this nightmare they had, a purpose, Rick had his wish rewarded with Carl getting shot by a stray bullet.

“No,” Rick replied. He used to believe in people before, even when he saw the atrocities that they were capable of as a law enforcement officer. It felt like another lifetime now.

“I always tried to believe in people before,” Rick continued, letting out a scoffing laugh, his voice roughing further. “I wasn’t always like this. I was Officer Friendly.”

His words though made Amanda smile at him gently as she drew up an inch away from his chest. “It’s okay—” she murmured, reaching out up towards him. “I wasn’t like this, either—”

Rick understood. She was Officer Ice Queen. Before. Not now. Not anymore. Because she had him now.

Their lips touched, and they started kissing. The kiss were almost as lazy as the moment they were having, meaningful but slow, lingering. He caressed the side of her face. She brushed her fingers across his jawline in answer. The languid kiss continued with no haste. Rick had no haste. There was no urgency. He didn’t want to rush things. He wanted to do it properly, give her what she truly deserved.

Rick broke the kiss, coiling his arms around her waist and hauling her up. He tucked her legs at one side of his hips as he settled her on his lap gently. With a soft smile, Rick brought a hand across the nape of her neck and brought her head again at the crook of his neck before he kissed her bare shoulder lightly.

As he hugged her tightly, Amanda hugged him back in the same way. “Gonna take you out for dinner tomorrow—” Rick murmured in her ear after a while as they stayed in each other’s arms, just cuddling.

“ _Out?_ ”

Rick bobbed his head. “Yeah. Will make that casserole, then we will find a place and eat it together.”

He felt her smile against the side of his neck. “Then it’s a date.”

“It is—” Rick agreed. “Our first date.” Of many.

She drew back an inch and pointed a finger at him as she looked like she was fighting off a smile. “You better ask help for that casserole, Rick—” she warned playfully. “I don’t want to get sick on our first date.”

“Don’t worry—” he whispered to her before tightening his arms to draw her back to him. “It’s gonna be a night to remember. I promise.”

# # #

There was something in the way they were that made her lay…dormant in his arms. Amanda knew she shouldn’t stay, that she should leave, but she just…couldn’t. Not after he’d looked at her like that, asking—almost begging her to stay. So, she’d walked back.

So far so good.

She felt like she’d sunken in a time dilation field, their pace slowed down, the world slowed down. This was their third night in Alexandria, and nothing bad had happened so far, like Rick had said. Perhaps that was really it. Perhaps she really started counting on her board again, how many days they had without an accident.

The thought should get her stressed, but she couldn’t manage to get herself worked up. The thought of having sex had unsettled her again, especially when they were in the room with Judith, but then somehow even Rick playing with her breast lazily while Judith slept beside them peacefully couldn’t manage it.

So, Amanda just let it slide, snuggling against him instead. She also knew she was giving him an eyeful, the way the robe revealed her body, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about it either. In fact, a part of her even wanted it, like how before she wanted Rick to see her pretty, Amanda wanted him to see her like _this,_ too.

Amanda tried to quell the shiver, remembering his promise. _It’s gonna be a night to remember._ She wanted it. Wanted him to cook for her, go to dinner. Alone. Only the two of them. Logistics could be a handful, but Rick would manage to find a place they wouldn’t be disturbed. Like tonight, sharing, kissing, having little moments, enjoying each other’s company—then—then perhaps…

Perhaps it was the right time. They’d been waiting for a long time. She was making him wait for a long time. Any lesser man would’ve already burst out and had a confrontation, but not Rick. He just kept her in his arms, all while having an erection and ignoring it. It must be hard for him, very frustrating. Perhaps the way he was yesterday at Deanna’s was a result of that, too. Too much unsatisfied sexual tension. It made things harder for him. And he’d only said he feared touching her now—

Well, it seemed he’d at least passed that stage now as his hand curled up around her soft flesh further and cupped her breast softly. It was so nice, his callous yet gentle fingers rubbing. Amanda inched closer to him. She should go, but she really didn’t want to. She didn’t want to leave the warmth of his arms, the peaceful serenity of the dimly lit room. Even Judith was sleeping in the bed beside them without a sound now, only giving out happy, soft puffs. But…Carl and Beth—

The thought woke her up. She couldn’t let Carl sleep in the living room for her, and Beth couldn’t stay alone tonight after all the things that happened to them. _Their_ first night. No. Amanda couldn’t stay here, enjoying this lavish tranquility while Beth stayed in that room all by herself.

Bracing herself, she gripped the edges of his shoulders, and pushed herself an inch away from his embrace. The chilly air between them hit her, and it felt like something had ripped off her, but she didn’t cave in. Beth was alone. “I gotta go.” She had to. Rick’s calm expression shifted into a half, faint scowl as he gazed at her, those clear gemstone blue eyes staring at her. “Beth—” Amanda spoke quickly in the same quiet tones. “She’s alone. I can’t leave her alone—” She paused for a breath. “Not tonight. It’s our first night,” she added.

Understanding dawning in his eyes, Rick nodded slowly. She wanted him to understand. She wasn’t leaving him. She would’ve stayed... Perhaps another time. She wanted to stay a night with him like this. A whole night. Only the two of them like Rick wanted. The thought excited her as much as it scared her, but Amanda wanted it. She wanted to try. Like that day in the woods, she felt it. She wanted to see how much she’d changed.

_I wasn’t like this, either._

No. She was the one who was gifted fish because they feared she couldn’t handle anything more.

The thought—the belittling, mocking words saddened her, but it was no time to dwell on those. Beth needed her. And she wasn’t that girl now, she guessed _. I’ve changed._

She was sitting on a man’s lap now, wearing a very lavish robe as they only cuddled. A man she’d been refusing to have sex because she was damn scared. The man she was trying to date in the apocalypse—the man who was going to cook for her.

With a sigh, she uncurled herself, and careful not to wake Judith up, she crawled to the foot of the bed and slid down. Rick followed her, like the gentleman he was. He walked her to the door, his hand gently on the small of her back. At the door, they halted before twisting to each other.

Rick leaned in toward her and gave her a chaste kiss, threading his fingers through her hair before he cupped her cheek. They shared another quick kiss, and another, and another…before Rick cracked the door open, but they were still kissing. It was so hard to leave him.

Forcing herself as her lips still lingered over his, Amanda finally stepped aside, pecking him the last time when the door moved. She felt the chill out of the corridor hit her with a shiver. Rick pulled her for one last kiss before he mouthed in her ear. “See me in your dreams.”

She softly giggled but gave him another light peck on the lips before twisting around as she slipped out of his arms.

Amanda scurried away from the master bedroom to hers and Beth’s in record time. Aside from Beth and Mika, there were only Carol and Joan on their floor, but still she wasn’t looking for an audience. Not when she was like this, dressed in a dressing gown, slipping out of Rick’s dorm room like some college lovers.

The thought almost made her giggle again. She felt a bit dizzy, even though she didn’t have anything to drink. She knew what it was, but she didn’t want to think on it right now, either. Not tonight.

She just wanted to go back to her room now, hold Beth, and go to sleep remembering tonight, dreaming how it would be tomorrow night—

Silently, she cracked open their room’s door, nudging it slowly, but seeing the scene in front of her, Amanda froze in the doorway once again.

# # #

His hand at his stomach, as the other supported at the back of his neck, Rick stared at the ceiling, feeling the chill of the room without Amanda’s warm body snuggled against him. Twisting his head aside, he looked at the spot she’d vacated before he made her straddle him.

The sheets were still shifted where she had been laying, still having her lingering warmth. If he closed his eyes and sniffed deeply, he could still smell her scent in the sheets. She must’ve taken a shower before, her smell tinted with honey milk etched on it. It was one of the body wash bottles in the shower. Rick had chosen the soap, but Amanda had opted for honey milk fragrance. It suited her. Rick liked it, and he damn missed her even though it wasn’t even a minute she’d been gone.

His eyes shifted to her place, and with a sigh, Rick reached out over to the side Carl had left and picked up the book on the bed stand. He couldn’t sleep now. Perhaps he would call Carl up from downstairs, but he wasn’t particularly in the mood to receive a scowl from his son right now, especially not when he still had a hard-on bulging in his pants.

He would wait for a while, read a little bit, then get Carl back. Reaching over Judith to turn on the bed lamp on the bed stand for reading, Rick ran a finger across his baby girl’s tummy before he opened the book. _Remember. Run. Survive._

The young adult book was a bestseller, he knew it from Carl earlier, so he hoped the teenagers at least had a sense for good literature. He opened up the cover and started reading the first page before he heard the light footsteps in front of his door. He whipped his head up.

The door opened slowly a second later and Amanda—having a dazzled expression, slipped quietly inside. Rick stared at her.

“Amanda?” he called out. She looked up at him. Panic clutching him, Rick lunged over the bed hurriedly, almost waking up Judy in the meantime. “Wh—what’s happened?”

Noticing his panic, Amanda raised her hand. “Nothing. I mean—” She swallowed. “Uh—Carl is with Beth—” she muttered the words, heading towards him, her dazzled expression becoming more lost. “They—they’re sleeping. So—uh, I left.”

“They’re sleeping—” Rick repeated. “Together?”

Somehow the notion…unsettled him. Carl and Beth were friends, but Carl had always had this crush on Beth, which might’ve turned a bit more…complicated after what had happened to them in the woods.

Amanda nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah. I guess she figured out I was here—so she asked him to come up…” she commented, shaking her shoulders. Rick nodded. “Uh—” She looked at him. “Can—can I stay here tonight?”

Rick shook his head, heaving a sigh. “Do you need to ask?”

She shrugged with one shoulder this time. Rick waved his hand at her as he moved on his knees to the foot of the bed. “Come here—”

With a shy smile, Amanda slowly headed towards him. Straightening fully on his knees as she stood at the edge of the bed, Rick took the robe’s belt and started undoing it again. She didn’t stop him, but her expression was bearing an uncertain look as Rick slipped the robe off her. “You can’t sleep in it—” he reasoned.

Besides, he really wanted to see her in that chemise. He _really_ wanted to.

The sight wasn’t disappointing. It was an elegant lingerie like Rick had gotten a peek at, the hem brushing her hips, as above it had a deep cut exposing quite a bit of her bosom, his necklace even more of an open sight, dangling towards between her breasts. The back was open to the small of her back, held only by thin straps crisscrossing her back.

She looked so beautiful, and all the words Rick couldn’t manage to think of right now, not when she stood in front of him like this, her head tilted down slightly to look at him. Suppressing a shudder of anticipation, Rick took her hand and brought her back to the bed.

Her eyes darted to Judith for a split second as she crawled on her hands and knees, giving Rick another stir and a renewed hard-on as his eyes caught the thin slip of the thong between her tight, round buttocks. It was torture, seeing her like this—touching, feeling, but not going on forward, but a part of him almost enjoyed it, too. He must’ve grown into being a masochist.

She settled on his other side again as Rick propelled himself in between Judith and her. They half lay down, resting on the pillows against the headboard. Her eyes picked up the book next to his pillows as Rick scooped her again under his arm.

“Were you reading?” she whispered to him, getting closer to him on her side, her right hand resting on his chest. Rick bobbed his head as his hand slithered downward on its own accord over her curves before it found her ass. The skirt of her chemise already rode up over her hips, and Rick fondled her bare ass, as her breasts, almost bare too, pressed against his chest.

“Wanna read?” Rick asked, tilting his head down. “It’s the book you brought for Carl.”

Craning her head, Amanda looked up at him, and another soft smile broke over her lips. “Really?”

Rick gave her another little nod as he picked up the book with his free hand and showed it to her. Her smile curved further as she nodded back, somewhat looking pleased, too. “’kay.”

She settled herself against him further to see the book, tucking her leg between his. Their entwined bodies felt so good again, even though Rick felt he was wearing way too many clothes for his taste, but he didn’t want to disturb Amanda’s calmness by taking off his shirt or his pajama bottoms. She didn’t look like she was minding being almost naked in his arms, even when his fingers found the thong that slid in between her ass cheeks and started tugging at it absently.

Amanda just kept still; her eyes fixated on the book as her hand started moving over his chest, too. Rick wondered if she was really reading because suddenly the words had stopped registering in his brain.

He tried to turn the page, but raising her hand from his chest, Amanda stopped him. “Shsss. Haven’t finished yet.” She returned her hand on him again, resting it on his side, then it started moving, too. It crawled towards the edge of his basic tee, and a second later, slipped under his shirt. As she still read, she started gently running her fingers across his bare skin.

Rick all but forgot the book in his hand, forgetting to pretend to read as she stroked his stomach idly. A soft hiss escaped from him as Amanda kept reading. Rick closed his eyes for a second, reveling in being touched that way, affectionate—almost mundane, but still so intimate. He almost threw the book and rolled her under him and started fucking her—no—no—making love to her—smoothly, gently.

He wanted to kiss her deeply, slowly like the first time he did. Wanted to show her how they could do this. The need was like a craving his whole body ached for. It took everything, _everything_ in him not to make the move.

His hand on her ass clenched as his fingertips dug into her tight flesh. Startled, Amanda whipped her head up. She blinked at him, her own hand under his rode up shirt frozen as if she just realized what she was doing.

“Uh—s—sorry—” she murmured in a throaty whisper, pulling her hand away. His hand shooting up from her ass, Rick stopped her.

“No—” he roughed out with difficulty. “’s ‘okay—” he muttered. “Keep reading.”

She shook her head, her hand staying still. “Uh—let’s sleep,” she replied, gliding downward. “Tomorrow is gonna be a long day,” she remarked, trying to keep her voice casual. “We need to talk with Deanna.”

Nodding, Rick closed the book, and twisting aside, straightening up a little to reach to the bed stand, he set it down and turned off the lamp.

The room fell into darkness. Flicking a glance at Judith in the dark, to make sure the baby girl was okay, safely set between the crib and sofa, Rick rolled back to his place. As they lay completely down, he pulled the covers over them. Under the covers, they stirred as they settled themselves into each other’s arms awkwardly.

Her hand was still at his side over his shirt as Rick kept his over her ass cuddling her, her chemise completely risen up almost to the small of her back. Her right leg was tucked between his again as she half draped herself over him on her stomach, her arm draped across his middle, her hand resting his other side, and her head at the crook of his neck. Even in the position, she sleekly made herself face the door, but Rick didn’t say anything. Amanda never slept with her back to a door, Rick had noticed.

The awkward hesitance became more palpable as they lay in the silent dark, the only sound breaking it was Judith’s soft puffs. Rick listened to it as he tried to settle himself down again, trying to relax. His hand began making soft circles around the small of her back and easing downward found the thin, lacy strip of her thong, but Rick only focused on her smooth skin as he stroked her. Again, the gesture calmed him down as he felt the tightness in his stomach started uncoiling.

Amanda’s breaths turned steadier, too, but her hand was still dormant. In the dark, Rick stared at the ceiling, wondering if he would get any sleep tonight. It still felt weird, though, the soft mattress, Amanda almost naked in his arms, the lavishly decorated room, his pajama pants… Amanda’s silk chemise…

“Carl—” he suddenly broke the silence a few minutes later in a whisper. “Carl told me today that he and Beth smoked.”

It felt like he should tell her about it and share something. About family. Their worries. The notion nudged something else in him too—another thought—persistent to get acknowledged, but Rick couldn’t deal with it right now, either.

Amanda raised her head, supporting her chin on his chest to look up at him. There was suspicion in her eyes, but Rick knew it wasn’t about them this time. “Ron and Clarice gave them—”

She made a face. “I knew those sisters are up to no good—” she whispered, her voice heating. “I _knew_.”

Rick let out a small sigh. “They’re teenagers. Curious.” He paused. “The world still goes on.”

“Well, I don’t want Beth to start killing herself slowly with nicotine—” she clipped.

“Me neither,” Rick agreed. “I should—uh—stop too. Set up a good example.” He let out a soft, low chuckle. “Carl challenged me when I brought it up.”

She made another face. “You only smoked…twice.” She darted her eyes below, understanding what that meant. Rick only wanted to smoke after sex. He hadn’t gotten many chances.

Shooing away the thought, Rick gave her a look, finding her shimmering green eyes in the dark. “Don’t make a scene. Carl said he won’t do it again. He would talk to her.”

Shaking her head, Amanda rested her head back on his chest. “I’m worried about her, Rick,” she confessed. “She was sleeping on the floor when I went to the room. Didn’t want to sleep in the bed. She’d told me that even in the prison, it took her a month before she started sleeping in the bed again because she was afraid of losing it, and now...” She trailed off, making a low gulping sound. “I made us wear these just to take her mind off. You know—girls prettying up.”

Rick nodded, squeezing his fingers as he moved them up over her side. “It’s gonna be okay,” he rasped in a whisper. “They’re gonna be okay.” He paused, tilting his head down to give hers a light kiss, pulling her closer. “They need time.”

Amanda softly laughed. “Good night, Rick,” she replied, resting herself on him further before Rick did the same with another kiss.

His lips touched at her hair lightly as he whispered in her ear. “Good night, baby.”

She didn’t make a sound, but Rick felt her smile against his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa--finally they're sleeping in the same room, and in this fashion :)  
> We'll pick up with the others too in the next chapter, Daryl&Joan and Beth&Carl before we see the morning after :)  
> I'm really enjoying exploring the slow burn evolution of Amanda and Rick's relationship here, something I didn't do in Adaptation.  
> Don't hesitate to leave a comment, please. In these days, I really need a bit of motivation as I'm currently struggling in the future chapters, trying to deal with Pete and Rick.  
> I'll try to update the second part ASAP. Ciaociao!


	8. 'We can't go back'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After spending their first night together, both Amanda and Rick faces new challenges in the morning. His son makes an impossible yet demanding request to Rick as Amanda starts feeling the complications of a committed relationship further as the group still try to settle down in Alexandria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, thank you for the comments. Made me sooo happy and motivated :) I'm also marking the story as 'explict' from now on, becasue I believe I'm crossing the 'mature' line with this chapter.  
> Enjoy.

When Daryl found her, Joan was sitting on the steps of the back deck, sipping from the newly brewed coffee. Everyone else had gone inside the houses, lights turned off. Mostly. The house that stood just next to theirs that was only separated by a narrow pathway of cobblestone with a short evergreen fence was already darkened, but above her on the second floor, a lone faded orange hue was still visible. Joan knew whose room it belonged to.

Absentmindedly, Joan wondered if Amanda was there. Before she’d left the house, Joan had heard soft baby cries. Something told her that her officer friend wouldn’t ignore them now. Amanda Shepherd had turned into a mother hen. It was almost a snarky thought, and Joan felt bitter, too, though she knew it was falsely directed. Mostly. Her gaze drifted down, and she stared at her mug.

She brought it up after a second and took another sip. Coffee, it’d been a while since the last time she had coffee. Gorman—

Joan stopped that thought even before she started. Frowning in the dark, she looked ahead, towards the great wall.

“Hey—” the familiar rough drawl rasped beside her, and startled, Joan jerked on the steps a little.

She twisted aside and saw Daryl as he swung his arms over the railing. “Whaddaya doin' here?” the hunter asked lowly, slanting a look over to her. “Why ain’t ya inside?”

“Didn’t feel like sleeping,” she replied stiffly. “You—back from watch?”

Daryl gave a half bob of his head. “Yeah, I was heading to the garage. Saw you—” His eyes returned to her, assessing her as Joan sipped from the mug again. “Ya okay?”

Joan shrugged, a similar gesture she’d picked up from him. Daryl gave her another glance as Joan’s eyes darted over to him, checking his unkempt appearance.

Daryl was the only one who hadn’t showered yet, still looking like always did, a creature of the woods. The smell of earth and the woods on him was stronger here more than out there. The leather scent was still poignant, too, along with the smell of sweat and wild animals. It was a scent Joan had grown accustomed to. Somehow it was soothing, too, something that made her feel…better. Safer?

Her eyes flicked up and caught his, and Joan realized once more what clear blue eyes he had. “I don’t want to stay in—” Words left her, bitter and curt, her hands gripping the mug tighter while she felt the heat through the porcelain.

Joan didn’t move them away.

She didn’t want to stay inside the walls. Didn’t want to be a pretty puppet again that played at the end of their strings. The memory of a backhand landing on her cheek almost made her scream, or cry, another string of ungrateful bitches clanking loudly in her mind as she tumbled on the bed on her back—

“Then don’t—” Daryl replied, leaning over the railing. “I'm gonna go out tomorrow to put up snares. Come with me.”

Lifting her head up to look at the man, Joan eyed him carefully for a few seconds before she asked, “You still go out to set snares?”

The hunter shrugged. _Why not?_ Joan laughed lowly raising the mug to her lips again. “Old habits die hard, huh?”

Daryl shrugged again. Joan stood up, lowering her hand with the mug at her side. “Deanna won’t like it, you know.”

Another absent, indifferent shrug was her answer. “See ya tomorrow then—” Joan said, smiling an inch. She paused, almost going back inside, but something stopped her feet. She—she wanted to add something. Do something. Show him how much it meant to her…

She—she _wasn’t_ an ungrateful bitch.

Still holding the half empty mug, Joan leaned in and kissed him on the cheek lightly. “Thank you,” she murmured to his ear, her lips hovering over his stubble as Daryl stood motionless. Joan didn’t move, either. The rugged sensation against her chapped lips felt odd, but Joan liked it. Gorman always kept himself clean shaven, smooth…

She drew back, the thought disturbing her again as her expression tightened. She felt tainted, like all of her memories, her sensations were tainted with him, all of _her_ felt tainted with him.

Her eyes pricked. “Hey—” Daryl called out, leaning over her further from the railings. He was startled when she did it, but now Joan heard clear worry in his tone when he asked, his burrows furrowing, “Ya okay?”

“Yeah—” Joan dismissed it quickly with an absent jerk of her head before she turned and scurried away. “See ya in the morning.”

As she did, she could feel his eyes still staring at her back.

# # #

When Beth heard soft footsteps outside, she shifted in the bed laying awkwardly in the dimly lit room and straightened up a little. Being alone in the room felt awful, and she was debating with herself if she should lay down on the floor once more. It still would feel awful, but at least it would feel less awful. But Beth also was half expecting Amanda to return to the room after chickening out. Despite all of her courageous and determined spirit, Amanda Shepherd could be such a coward sometimes.

Beth almost scoffed, but halted as footsteps padded away from their door. Understanding who they belonged to, she quickly jumped off the bed and rushed to the door.

“Hey—” She cracked the door and poked her head out. Just as she surmised, Carl was lurking on the landing, heading downstairs. “Where are you going?” Beth whispered.

All of a sudden, fear gripped her. She tried to suppress the panic she felt at remembering the last time Carl had snuck out, and what had happened then—her palm itched.

“Downstairs—” her friend answered, slowly turning to her. “I’m not going to sleep in the same room with them. They—” He stopped in the middle of his sentence, his eyes narrowing at her in the dark corridor, turning to slits as he gave her a startled look. “What’s that on your face?”

Beth pursed her metallic blue lips. “It’s rave makeup. Amanda did it,” she informed him, before she added on the topic, “I don’t think she will sleep over there.”

Carl shrugged. “Not gonna sit down with them, either.”

She stepped aside, opening the door a bit further in an invitation. Carl gazed at her suspiciously. “C’mere, Carl—” she called out. “I don’t want to sleep. And I’m bored.”

And it _really_ felt awful staying alone in the room, but Beth didn’t say that part. She was wearing a robe like Amanda over her own lingerie, dark navy like its matching counterpart. Carl tossed her another look, more cautious now, before he walked in.

“Amanda and I did a makeover—” Beth explained, closing the door after him. “Found these in the closet.” She gave her friend a small smile. She wanted to do something silly, like she was fifteen and stupid again.

Like—like that girl. Clarice.

Beth had never hated someone before. No. She’d hated those men in the woods, their cruelty, their monstrous atrocity, their careless evilness. But it wasn’t like that. Sweet, fifteen, and stupid, Clarice was all Beth had dreamed to be once.

_Once upon a time… There was a girl, and she died…_

Beth went to the vanity table, Carl still looking at her cautiously. Her friend was always looking at her cautiously these days. Leaning over the vanity, she opened the first drawer and took out the photo frame. The girl in the photo was around Amanda’s age, having thick blond curls that were falling over her shoulders like sunshine. She looked so beautiful, so happy in the frame that Beth felt that pinch in her chest again. Her shorter hair was a matte dirty blonde now, even after the showers she’d taken, a dull color, not sparking like sunshine as it used to before. Not like the girl in the photo, not like Clarice. Clarice’s sunshine hair was still so lush, so lavish, so silky.

Her lips flattened at the thought, Beth turned and started walking towards Carl and saw him looking around doubtfully as he tried to decide where to settle.

There was one very comfy armchair in the room, a sofa at the foot of the bed, and the vanity table’s stool. Carl seemed like he didn’t want to sit on the bed or on the sofa, so Beth strutted towards the armchair.

She thought she did. Beth never strutted before, but just walking didn’t sound good enough to describe the way the silken gown brushed over her legs with each step. No, with a dressing gown like this, a woman would only strut.

So, Beth strutted and slid into the armchair. She folded her legs under her, covering herself as the slit of the skirts exposed her legs before Carl came and sat on the floor on the rugs just beside her seat, resting his back against the armchair.

Leaning in, Beth showed the frame to Carl. Twisting aside, looking up at her, he took the photo from her. “I think they belong to her. Found it in the room.”

Carl nodded. “I saw some frames, too.”

“She’s beautiful—” Beth remarked, running a finger along the edge of the silk. Once upon a time, there was a girl, and she died. It was still the same old story. The girl must have died, too. And Beth was wearing her clothes now. Just like how Carl was carrying Michonne’s sword. Carl hadn’t handed it in to the armory like the rest of the guns, instead put it on the mantelpiece over the fireplace in the living room.

Beth wouldn’t have guessed, but they had let him. Carl still had his memento from his friend. Beth had nothing.

She flicked her eyes down to Carl again. “My music box—” she remarked. “You still haven’t given it back to me.” She wanted it back. Carl had put it in his bag while they were packing in the barn, and when she asked later, he told her he was going to fix it, but it was still with him.

“I haven’t fixed it yet,” Carl replied. “I was going to ask dad again—”

Beth cut him off. “Don’t bother. I don’t mind it being broken.” She paused. Beth didn’t mind broken things anymore. In fact, sometimes…sometimes she wanted to break things. Everything was in ruins now. Why would they care?

 _Why not?_ Amanda’s answer echoed in her, but Beth silenced it down. “I just want it back,” she declared with a low but stern voice.

She wanted it. Carl shrugged.

They sat in silence for a while before Carl raised his arm up with the photo towards her. “My mother’s photo was lost in the prison—” he said in a small voice, handing her the frame back. “Judith will never know how she looks like now.”

The thought saddened Beth. She had accepted it was how their life was now, leaving things behind, but it was still sad. Beth remembered the prison, what his father had told her when he’d found her still unpacked after weeks there, telling her what the point was of living if you didn’t have hope.

It was a question Beth feared to ask herself anymore. She knew she didn’t want to…die. She at least couldn’t do it to people who still cared about her, but everything else… Beth just didn’t know. She wished she could have her journal at least, read what she’d written before, her words, her memories…not everything was lost. But her journal was still there in the prison, along with the bracelets Maggie had made for her and her father’s Bible. Like Carl family photo.

They all had stayed back there. Had they lost them too? Like everything else?

Sadness dissipating into a hot anger, Beth shook her head. “We should turn back—” she whispered heatedly.

Carl looked up at her. “We should return to the prison and take them back,” she clarified in the same heated tones, leaning forward. “We have to go back.”

“Dad would never let us—” Carl interjected, shaking his head.

“Maybe they would.” The prison still had supplies, meds they’d brought from Grady, weapons. Beth wasn’t an idiot. Even with all the supplies here, she still knew meds and guns were a priority.

“We talk with Amanda and Rick. The guns and meds are still there, right?” she asked, mulling over the idea.

“They would want to get them back,” she continued. It would work. It _should_ work. Carl, though, was still suspicious. “The others would want to come, too.” They all had left something behind. Her hand moving away from the fringes of silk, her thumb caressed her palm, feeling the scar tissue running under her fingertip.

“I don’t know—” Carl answered after a pause. “It’s a long way from here. And the prison is swarmed by walkers.”

Well, there was that, too. Beth paused. “I think walkers would just wander away without anything living when the fences are down. Perhaps they already did. We know they herd up then immigrate if they’re not trapped.” She paused again, remembering something else. “Before Governor attacked, Maggie was talking about a supply run with Glenn to go back to the farm to check it.”

Carl was silent again for a while, then slowly stated, “I don’t think Dad would risk it.”

Beth scowled. “Every breath we take is a risk—” she intoned her father’s words. They could only decide now how to take their own risks. His eyes lifting up at her again, Carl gave her a long look, the fringes of his dark brown hair brushing his eyebrows.

Carl had let his hair grow longer after Lori died. Beth didn’t understand it first, but now she did. She used to see Lori cutting Carl’s hair all the time before. After she died, Carl stopped cutting his hair, too.

Beth flicked her hand through her own hair, brushing over her shoulders. After Maggie died, Beth just cut it instead, feeling it was too long. Too long for such a world.

“Do you really want it?” Carl asked, still looking at her. “To go back there?”

“My father’s Bible, Maggie’s bracelets—” Beth replied lowly. “I want them back.”

With a word, Carl only nodded before he twisted aside and rested his back against the armchair again. Beth knew he understood. Her friend was only a few people she had left who still understood her. They stayed like that for a while, both not talking any further, listening to the silence.

Time passed—and Amanda didn’t return.

Her eyes darting below, Beth spied as Carl gave covert glances to the door. The silence almost became oppressive as they just sat there, the whole house in a deep slumber. Everyone was sleeping.

Everyone?

Well, Beth started wondering. She perked up her ears and tried to catch something, anything—nothing. There was no sound. Not even soft baby wheezing. Judith must be sleeping.

And Amanda still hadn’t returned.

The implication of it became heavier in the silence. Amanda was staying with Rick and Judith. Her curiosity grew more and more as Carl’s expression got sourer.

Beth flicked another look over to her friend. “Do you think they’re doing it?” The words suddenly popped out of her mouth, and Beth was as surprised as Carl when she heard them aloud.

His head whipped up at her, Carl stared at her. Tugging a lock of hair behind her ear, feeling a sudden unease, Beth tried to shrug. “Uh, well, she hasn’t returned yet.”

Resting his hands on his pulled up bent knees, turning away from her, Carl bowed his head. “Yeah.”

They passed another moment like that silently before Beth couldn’t help herself but ask, too. “Carl—have you—have you ever—”

Realizing what she was asking, Carl cut her off, raising his head. “No.” His eyes found hers. “Did—did you?”

Beth shook her head slowly. “I—I got to the second base with Zach,” she replied truthfully.

Carl bobbed his head. “I kissed Alice,” he confessed after a pause. “It was a dare.”

Beth smiled a little and tried to remember the girl. She’d come a few months after they’d started taking people in, but Beth couldn’t remember who had found them. It didn’t matter anyway. She was possibly dead, too.

Once upon a time, there was a girl, and she died… It felt like the words had slipped in every curve of her brain, and Beth almost told him what she’d thought in the woods before.

They—they were friends. Weren’t they?

If something happened, and they died tonight or tomorrow… Beth remembered smokes. _The things I need to do before I die—_ her voice echoed in her mind before Amanda’s warning followed: _it’s crossing a line_.

Shaking her head, Beth pulled up to her feet. She was getting bored. With _herself_. Perhaps one day, but not tonight. Tonight, they would just—

She waggled a hand at Carl. “Come on, it’s getting late. Let’s sleep.”

Looking up at her cautiously again where he still sat, Carl hesitated.

Beth sighed. “She’s staying with him, Carl,” she told him slowly. Her eyes turned down on him, and she asked openly, “Can you stay with me?” She paused before she confessed, because friends never lied. “I—I don’t want to be alone. It feels awful.”

Without a word, Carl stood up.

Lifting the covers, Beth slipped into the bed still with the robe on. Carl walked to the other side and got into bed. He was wearing a pajama bottom, something he possibly found in his own room. Twisting aside and reaching up, Beth turned off the lamp on the bedstand before she fell back on the pillows.

Her first night in a real room after almost two years. She wondered if she should wipe off the makeup, but she didn’t bother. Even Amanda hadn’t made a fuss over it, just came to bed before she left. Such trivialities didn’t belong to their lives anymore.

Carl’s breaths were rhythmic in the silence, and Beth listened to him, trying to remember a forgotten song’s lyrics. She needed to complete her song, too. It was on her list.

“Goodnight, Carl—” Beth whispered in the dark, closing her eyes, the tip of her thumb caressing her scarred palm before his answer came within a heartbeat.

“Goodnight, Beth.”

# # #

As Amanda woke up, the first thing she felt was the warmth. It was engulfing her, enwrapping her in a sweet heat, and wetness. Perspiration. She was sweaty with skin contact, and in a weird way it was so satisfying that she still didn’t want to move.

She blinked her eyes sleepily against the sunlight that seeped through drapes over the windows. She was still half on her stomach over Rick in the same way under the covers; her leg tucked between his, her head nested against the crook of his neck, her arm across his middle. And her hand, well, it had found its back way under his shirt once again as she held him at his side.

Rick wasn’t very different, either. His hand was still gently cupping her ass. Her lips curved up into a lazy smile. Go figure, they turned into the cuddling type. Amanda always hated any more skin contact more than necessary, and she was really wondering why it changed now. It was so good, so warm, his breath tickling over her skin—

Cracking his eyes open, Rick tilted his head down and smiled at her. “Mornin’.” The word rolled around his tongue throatily, his voice thick with sleepy roughness, and it was damn sexy.

It sent a tender jolt of pleasure through her core. Amanda stirred more as she mouthed the word back at him, raising her head up from its nest. Their lips met for a slow, lazy kiss. Their morning breath wasn’t fresh, but Amanda didn’t care. It felt like she had stopped caring about everything.

They kissed like they had nothing in the world to do in the moment. Tightening his arms around her back, Rick hauled her up further over himself, strategically positioning her groin over his morning hardness.

Her arm sliding down, she smoothed her hand over his stomach gently, wanting to sense his warm skin again. Rick had a lightly hairy chest, something Amanda had always wondered how it would feel to kiss. She wanted to find out, wanted to run her tongue over the silky hairy texture.

Her hand tugged at the hem of his shirt. Understanding her desire, Rick raised up from the pillows as Amanda pulled back an inch, too, easing off her weight of him, and with a swift move, he pulled off his shirt and threw it away before he lay back down.

She slid downward over his body, tugging both of her legs inside his as she followed his treasure trail. Her tongue flicked around his belly button framed by the tiny silky dark hair she so wanted to taste as Rick hitched out his breath, his hands reaching down to grip her shoulders.

Amanda looked up at him and saw his head was tossed back on the pillows, revealing his Adam’s apple again. Returning to her discovery with a slow smirk, Amanda trailed her tongue up to his chest, more eager than ever to find out what would make him make that hitched breath deeper. He tasted like he smelled, too; that distinctive scent of him, now mixed with fresh soap. It filled her nostrils as much as her taste buds, turning her on more, a gentle tug pulsing in her depths.

She made her way upward slowly, taking her sweet time with lazy drawled kisses before she found his peaked nipples. She lingered there, played with his right nipple, her smirking smile still on her lips as Rick sucked in another breath. She couldn’t help herself. She grazed the sensitive skin with the tip of her teeth, glancing up at him.

Rick rewarded her with a sharp hiss out of his nose, his head tilted backward further. It was one of the sexiest sounds Amanda had ever heard—

And just then she heard another sound...a soft puff beside her.

Amanda froze, stilling over him and twisting her head aside to look at Judith as the baby girl let out another puff in sleep. Amada blinked a few times, lying motionlessly over him.

S-s-she was making out beside a baby.

She rolled off him and lay on her back.

What was wrong with her?

Was she that _horny_?

Scooting over to her, Rick rolled on his side, drawing up on his elbow as he half spooned her. His other hand gently brushed back her hair over her shoulder. He was silent for a while, just looking at her as Amanda gazed at the ceiling. In the end, he leaned in and gave her a chaste kiss with a soft smile.

“Let’s take a shower—” he whispered to her hoarsely. “You’re sweaty.”

She gave him a look before she glanced at Judith again over on his other side. “She’s still sleeping—” Rick whispered again, his eyes still on hers.

Feeling torn, Amanda turned to him as he trailed another chaste kiss over her jawline. She knew she was being seduced, and she was about to tell him to stop, but before she could, Rick murmured over her ear, “Listen.”

He stayed silent for a few seconds, then went on in the same throaty whisper, “All the house is silent. Everyone is still sleeping. We can hear her if she wakes up—” The tip of his tongue flicked under her earlobe. He knew well how it made her shiver.

As the shiver passed along her body, images assaulted her. Taking a shower with Rick, all wet and naked… Her eyes darted at him. “I promise I’ll behave—”

Amanda knew she was done when she realized, perhaps, she wouldn’t mind him misbehaving. She still felt torn, but well—

Rick took her hand and straightened up.

They climbed out of the bed as silently as possible, Rick dragging her to the bathroom, her hand in his.

Inside, he left the door open. Amanda felt a shyness come to her again when his glinting eyes roamed all over her as she stood on the cold tiles only in her chemise.

She knew her nipples perked up under the silk cloth with anticipation and morning chill, and she wasn’t surprised his eyes lingered there before he closed the distance between them. His hands gently rubbed her bare shoulders as he gave her a warm, reassuring smile. Something— a twisted cord uncoiled in her stomach with his smile.

Rick then slipped the thin straps over her shoulders, making the silk chemise pool around her feet on the tiles.

Swallowing lowly, Amanda took a step closer and slowly reached for his pajama pants. She wanted to do this. Dropping his arms at his sides, Rick let her undo the tiny knot of his pajama bottom before she eased it off him. His fingers looped around the tiny edges of her thong, sliding it over her bare legs. Amanda tucked her fingers inside his boxers waistline and eased them down to the tiles, too. Their eyes stayed glued on each other the whole time as they slowly undressed each other.

With another small smile, naked, Rick took her hand again, and they stepped into the shower. Amanda was still wearing make up from the night, but she still didn’t care. She hadn’t wanted to wipe it off last night after Beth applied it, and she didn’t want to break their moment now. The mascara she wore claimed to be waterproof, so she supposed they were going to see about it.

Rick adjusted the temperature, and like a cascade, warm water started pouring above their heads. Reaching out a hand, Rick angled the shower head, so they stood under the half of the spray of the waterfall. His dark curls plastered along the nape of his neck and the sides of his face, getting wet from the spray and hers along her shoulders.

More of the waterdrops slid over his five o’clock shadow, and he looked so handsome—so gorgeous… His hands held her at her waist, dipping his head for a kiss, so slow, so tender, Amanda felt she was melting under the downpour.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him, their wet skin sliding over each other smoothly as they kissed, kissed, kissed—

Rick spun her in his arms suddenly, breaking the kiss, his arm holding her against his chest as the other reached out to take the sponge from the little shelf in the wall. He poured a gentle amount of honey milk body wash on the sponge and started washing her.

It was the first time someone had ever washed her. He was so gentle, so kind, and she was melting even further as the air inside the shower became dense with vapors of hot water—so hot, so warm… Amanda closed her eyes and felt herself sinking against his chest.

But Rick spun her around again, stepping an inch back, the foamy sponge gently brushing over her stomach this time, then he knelt in front of her. He trailed it over her legs, parting them a little as his hand slid between her thighs.

He raised his eyes to look up at her, and even _before_ he did, Amanda realized what he was aiming to do. She shivered with anticipation as they stared at each other, his eyes now glinting like sapphire again.

Standing up, Rick quickly moved her back under the spray, bubbles washing off her body. Her back hit the the ceramic wall as he reached out and turned the shower head completely away from them.

Amanda shivered again with the sudden chill on her back and once more with anticipation as Rick knelt back between her legs and his head dipped, he kissed her down there, a soft, gentle kiss.

She trembled so violently at the brief contact, Rick looked up at her, tilting his head a little, and smiled. His smile though wasn’t gentle, not at all. It was wicked, almost dirty—and God.

Amanda couldn’t even remember the last time someone went down on her—and Rick— _Rick_ doing it—even the thought itself sent another surge through her body just as Rick grabbed her hips to steady her before he started working on her.

Amanda closed her eyes, her moans becoming louder and louder as his tongue started accompanying his lips, tracing through her folds as Rick grabbed her right leg and draped it over his shoulder. Her head hit at the wall tiles, her eyes still shut closed, and god, it felt so good, so amazing. Then he found her clit, spreading her leg wider on his shoulder, and Amanda simply went to another world as his tongue started making quick flickers over it.

Her hand shot up, and blindly, she grabbed the shower stall to stay upright on her trembling leg, her hips bucking forcefully when Rick started sucking her, too. His hands were holding her so tightly now she felt his nails digging into her skin.

Her head bowing, Amanda half cracked her eyes open and looked at him. His head was moving with his motions in a studious, steady rhythm between her legs, one still swung over his shoulder as he tried to discover what made her buck against his face the most, what made her groan louder.

The sight of him was already enough, but when Amanda picked up her juices dripping over his already wet stubble, his hands like clamps on her widespread thighs… They were going to leave their marks, she knew.

_I guess I’m just gonna suck you in the places no one but me can see…_

Rick Grimes, always true to his word.

His mouth moved an inch away, and she almost protested, she was closing on the edge, so close—so close. She wanted her release. She wanted to come, god, she so wanted it, wanted him to make her come just like this! But her protests died in her throat when he licked over her folds before he started fucking her with his tongue as his thumb replaced his tongue over her clit. He moved it over her most sensitive spot with quick slides as his tongue fucked her.

God, it was so much, so fucking much, and so fucking good, she caught his shoulder with her hand in the last moment before she lost her balance. Still doing his thing, his eyes jerked up from between her legs to watch her intently. The way he looked—the way he looked at her—

Her legs finally failing her, Amanda started tumbling downward, couldn’t support herself anymore, but Rick caught her before she hit the shower base.

Sill holding her thighs, Rick gently eased her down then swung her other leg over his shoulder, too, as he rose on his knees, never breaking their contact nor stopping what he was doing to her.

Amanda arched up, her legs swinging over his shoulders against his back as the angle made his tongue dive deeper into her, his hand finding her clit again.

She was bucking, grinding against his face so needily, clenching his head between her thighs so wantonly, she was almost ashamed.

When you fucked people you didn’t care about, you also didn’t care how you looked, how they saw you—but but—Rick—how much she wanted him, how much she needed him… the way he made her feel… It was all swelling in her, in her chest, in her core, wanting to burst out, but she couldn’t concentrate on it, not when he was doing this to her, not when he was _eating_ her out like this.

Yes, he was eating her out—eating her out like she was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted.

Amanda felt glad of the downpour, not only because it still sent sprays of water over them, but it also muffled her moans and groans as she came violently, clenching her thighs even tighter as that thing inside her burst out, the world blacking out.

Slumping back on the shower base, Amanda blindly drew up and rested her back against the tiles in the corner, her eyes still closed, her wet body still trembling. She felt shut down in a weird way, the euphoric release of her powerful climax leaving her almost in a limbo state with shivers. She felt limp, listless...wet, like a little puppy that had stayed in a downpour too long.

Forcing her eyes half open, she glanced at Rick. The shyness came over her again with an urge to pull her legs up to her chest to cover herself a bit. On the supply run, she hadn’t cared how she came undone with him, but now she didn’t know. It felt like something had shifted between them…changed. She tried to give him a smile as Rick gazed at her, his slitted eyes looking speculative.

Amanda turned her eyes away, rising to her feet, shutting down the thoughts. She reached for the shower head, and grabbing it, pulled it off. Directing the jet of water over his chin, she started rubbing his chin with her other hand.

She gave him a sheepish look seeing her juices still running over his stubble. “Sorry—” she mumbled. “Made a mess of you—”

His expression eased as he smiled at her again warmly in that way, getting closer. “Good that we’re already in shower.”

“Hmm hmm—” She tossed him a look. “And you said you were going to behave—”

He chuckled and Amanda relaxed further hearing the sound. He took another step, his hands taking a hold of her waist again as Amanda jetted the water over his body and glanced down.

His cock was still erect, hard in his arousal, but his lips were holding a playful smirk as he dipped his head, reaching out to her. “I’m behaving very well right now—”

His playfulness chased away all of the remnants of her odd unease and vulnerability after her orgasm, and Amanda giggled, rising the shower head at his face. “Liar—”

He caught her wrist and turned it at her. She shook her head at the sudden watery assault, the jet hitting her face as she retreated. Rick laughed at her reaction, still holding her wrist, walking in on her. “Rick!” she protested, holding his wrist back.

He let out a laugh. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, Mandy—”

The words were light, and he was still laughing, but she wondered a split second if there was a hidden meaning in it. She slanted a look to him, then soft wheezing sounds started coming them from the bedroom.

Judith woke up. Their heads whipped toward the door as Rick quickly turned off the faucet. Amanda shot an accusing, playful glance at him, too. “And you woke her up—”

“Me?” Rick asked innocently.

She blushed. She hadn’t moaned that loud this time, had she? And the shower, it should muffle the sounds. If anyone were above them, they could hear them clearly, but this en-suite bathroom was tucked at the far corner securely away from the other rooms. Yet, she still glanced at Rick again as they hopped out of the shower.

He took the body towels from a cabinet as Amanda checked the mirror. Her under eyes were faintly smeared black with waterproof mascara, but it wasn’t so bad. They dripped water in a pool over the tiles beneath their feet as Rick wrapped a towel around her body after covering himself with another around his waist while Amanda dealt with the remains of the makeup.

Between her legs felt chaffed, almost aching after the intense attention Rick and his stubble gave to her. The feeling though was…oddly satisfying.

She turned to Rick as he started patting her with the towel. “Rick,” she called out. “I—I wasn’t too loud, right?” Carl and Beth were just sleeping in the next room beside them. If they heard her. If Carl heard her again as they had sex…

Rick shook his head, his hands rubbing along her sides over the towel. “No, don’t worry. They wouldn’t hear you.” His eyes raised up to hers, getting heated again. “Otherwise, I would’ve kept you silent.”

They exchanged a look, Amanda feeling heat emitting out of her even further.

She was saved by the bell, or rather, the baby crying. Judith’s wheezing turned to soft cries as the baby girl realized she was alone in the bed. Quickly taking another towel to wrap around her hair, Amanda dashed out.

Securing the knot that Rick made under her arm, she scurried to the bed. Judith raised her arms as soon as she saw them, Rick following behind her. The baby was trying to crawl over the pillows that Rick had tucked between the mini crib and her.

Amanda smiled, shooting him a look over her shoulder. “She’s misbehaving like her daddy.”

Rick shook his head, cupping her ass again with one hand. “Her daddy was a very good boy this morning.”

“Uh huh.”

Over her shoulder, Rick leaned in and gave her cheek a quick kiss, pinching her ass lightly before he passed her, and leaning down, scooped up Judith.

“Good morning, baby gorgeous—” Raising his arms, he bounced her in the air, smiling a big smile, as Judith gave out happy giggles.

Amanda felt her core melt again, looking at them together, laughing with them. She reached out, trying to keep the baby stable. “Hey, you’re getting her wet—” she warned, still laughing.

He still had the towel wrapped around his hips, but the water drops were dripping over his chest, his chest hair plastered on his skin as more drops slipped from the end of his locks. He looked gorgeous. So much that Amanda played with the idea taking off his towel and sliding on her knees in front of him, too.

Outside she heard the doors open, and footsteps walked away in front of the master bedroom. Beth and Carl had woken up. A new day had started.

Amanda turned to the door, and the reality came back to her. She’d spent the whole night with Rick, and both Carl and Beth knew it. And Carl and Beth had spent the night in the same bed, too, and Amanda didn’t truly know how she felt about it.

Rick started drying his hair with a smaller towel he’d brought from the bathroom after he placed Judith into the crib. The play pen was still in the living room. Absently, Amanda thought of moving it upstairs in the room before she turned to Rick again.

“Rick—” she called out. “D-do you think something happened last night?” she asked slowly. “I mean—between Beth and Carl—”

His hand that was drying his hair stopped as Rick looked at her. “As in?”

Amanda nodded. Rick looked lost for a few seconds before lowering his hand with the towel at his side. “I—I think I’m not ready to think on that yet.”

“He’s fifteen, Rick—” she reminded him. “I saw boys younger than him that got girls pregnant.”

Rick gave her a look. “You’re not making it easier for me, Amanda.”

“I know. I’m the same. But Beth, well, you know how she is nowadays.” She sat down on the bed’s edge as Rick stayed up on his feet. She paused for a second before she confessed. “After Maggie’s death, she asked me for condoms.”

His eyebrows furrowed as Rick gave her another heavy look. “She said she didn’t want to die a virgin,” Amanda went on in a small voice. “Those bastards messed with her head. All that talk about being a virgin and dying,—and I—I once told her life is too short. She shot back at me with that, too.”

Rick heaved a sigh.

“I talked her out of it, saying she should wait until we find a place before she decides truly,” she continued. “Told her she wouldn’t want her first time being like that, with someone she doesn’t even know just to get it over with—” She darted her eyes away as Rick narrowed his, gazing at her. “She said then she would ask Carl.”

“What?” Rick muttered, his eyes widening.

“Yeah—” Amanda heaved a sigh, too, playing with a wrinkle over the sheet, bowing her head. “She said I was right. She couldn’t have it so casual, but Carl and she are friends.” She paused, clearing her throat as she raised her eyes up at him. “She said other stuff, too. You know, actually made a bit of sense, too…like how they endure this world together, be there for each other…”

“Yeah—” Rick bobbed his head slowly, walking to sit on the bed beside her.

Amanda scooted to make room him. “Maybe I—I should give her one…” she murmured. “If she decides or something. Never hurt to be prepared.”

Though, she herself wasn’t. The condoms she had found on the supply run were still inside her backpack. Amanda didn’t carry one herself now.

She wondered briefly what would’ve happened if they weren’t interrupted by Judith this morning, or she didn’t chicken out again in the shower but carried on. They would do it without condoms? Was she really ready for it? Hell, it didn’t even feel like she was ready for sex, let alone fucking him again without condoms like their first time. She couldn’t even imagine how _that_ would make her feel now.

As she was dazzled off in her own musings, Rick was shaking his head. “No. Wait. I’ll talk to Carl first.” He put his hand over her knee lightly. “Learn what it was about last night.”

Gazing at his light touch on her knee, Amanda swallowed, bowing her head. “She possibly saw him going downstairs and asked to come in.” She paused again as Rick started rubbing her shoulder gently, moving his hand away from her knee. 

Amanda twisted to him. “Carl. Do you think he’s mad because I stayed with you last night?” she asked in a small voice, her eyes staring at him as she felt her defenses crumbling again. It was the same vulnerability she’d felt after her orgasm, for different reasons.

She turned away, shaking her head. She was getting better with Carl! She shot to her feet. First, her admission that she couldn’t take him out, couldn’t take that responsibility, and now this. She should’ve never stayed. Just should have gone back to her room as quickly as possible, so she couldn’t have the damn morning jitters.

Because it felt damn like one. Amanda had been always very careful how to deal with her casual affairs, always making sure she lined up a good way to bail out without a fuss. She hated bringing her flings into her home, taking almost strangers into her bed. It was her home, her _own_ bed and sneaking out of the others’ houses was much easier than trying to send them out of yours.

And Amanda really hated dealing with the morning after.

She’d stopped one night stands because of the safety and health issues, understanding it wasn’t really her style, too much of a hassle just to get laid, too damn risky as well, but fuckbuddies had to remain in carefully arranged boundaries to make it work. Even the problems with Michael and their friends with benefits relationship started when Amanda didn’t let him stay overnight in her house, which ended up them having that talk about commitment, which made him finally call it quits when she said no.

Judith made a soft sound as if to whine at them for leaving her in the crib as they sat there silently, both lost in their own thoughts.

“Hey—” Rick called out, turning her to him, holding her at her upper arms. “Why don’t you go out to the track and run a bit?” he offered, dipping his head a little, giving her a small smile, his hands slowly moving over her arms. Amanda wondered if he felt her distress. “I'll talk with Carl first, then find you, okay?” he went on, his gaze still on her. “We'll make a round before I go to see Deanna.”

“Like old times?” she asked, looking up at him. “Making a patrol after my morning run?”

He pecked her on the lips. “Told you I missed our morning rounds,” he murmured to her, smiling as Judith stared at them intently.

They both drew back under the baby’s curiosity with seeing them snogging.

Amanda laughed lightly, feeling a bit better. “Someone is curious—” she remarked before she stood up and went to the bathroom to retrieve her chemise and thong. She couldn’t stand there naked and put them on in front of Rick while Judith was awake.

Though, she’d forgotten her robe on the foot of the bed. With a sigh, she slipped on the garments, noticing his fingermarks on her thighs. She knew the way he held her was going to leave its trace behind, but he was also right. Only he could see it.

Rick had already put on his jeans and his denim blue shirt and was cinching his belt when she walked out of the bathroom in the silk chemise. His eyes trailed after her wordlessly as Amanda trekked in front of him looking ahead. Judith was in the crib once again, playing with her stuffed giraffe. Amanda put on the robe, too, and started walking over to the door.

Rick followed her. He took her in his arms again beside the door, angling his head downward for a goodbye kiss. Suddenly, it was so hard to leave him again while they slowly kissed, to leave his warmth, the way his arms cocooned around her—so hard. She should move, but her feet weren’t listening to her will.

It was Rick who drew back a few minutes later, with that warm, kind smile. “Go now—” he told her, holding the door’s handle. “Blow your hair dry, too. It’s getting cold outside.”

She smiled at the way he sounded, making sure she didn’t get sick, her stomach making a flipflop on hearing the concern. She touched the side of his face as Rick half closed his eyes at the contact.

Amanda watched him again. Ricked liked these little affectionate gestures more than she realized, his light hand on her knee, her hand at his side under his shirt, gently stroking him. Amanda liked it, too, more than she would think, brushing her fingertips, enjoying the rugged sensation of his stubble as much as the silky texture of his hairy chest.

“Don’t shave—” she whispered, running her fingers along the end of his jawline. “I like your stubble.”

“As you wish,” Rick said with a small smile, opening the door for her like a true gentleman.

Shaking her head at him, her lips curving in a small smile, Amanda poked her head out to make sure no one was outside in the corridor. She couldn’t take any encounter right now, not even with Joan or Carol. She started moving, but Rick stopped her, gripping her elbow lightly. “Don’t forget, you have a date tonight.”

Her stomach making another flipflop, her smile enlarging, Amanda nodded before she slipped out.

# # #

Watching her slip out of his grip, Rick closed the door with a sigh. He guessed that the morning had gone well. He’d done what he always wanted, too, tasted her truly, sucking her in the places no one but him could see. When she came back in her chemise, Rick had noticed the marks his fingers had left on her, and the sight of them made him feel that possessive streak once more as much as her wet, wasted look in the shower after her orgasm.

The way she came was one of the most beautiful sights Rick had ever seen, the way she ground against his face with need, her thighs tightening on his head like clamps to get him further in her depths, directing his head to her secret places just like Rick wanted.

He wanted her like this, letting herself go completely with him, lowering her guard. He always wanted to see her naked, out of her armor, trusting him enough to be open. It hurt him when she drew away. Rick was opening up to her, letting her see him with his guard down, without his own armor. He might be bumping along the way, but he wanted them to be like this, sleeping in each other’s arms like this. Make love and sleep in each other’s arms the whole night. Each night. Each morning.

The need was there. Perhaps he was moving too quickly again, but Rick wanted it. After last night, that need wasn’t something he could ignore anymore. Though, Amanda wasn’t ready. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he was ready, either. Feeling a need, a craving, was different than being ready for it. And there was Carl, there was Judith, Beth—

Rick stopped for himself and repeated what she kept saying. What they kept saying. Time. They needed time. She’d opened up herself last night, too, and this morning, let him have her like this. Afterward, Rick became worried for a few minutes that they were going to have another episode, but she got out of it.

Perhaps they could finally get over it tonight. Amanda was truly like a spoiled kitten, having her claws retracted when she was well taken care of and soothed down. She wanted to be with him as strongly as Rick wanted her. She would have never slept with him like last night if she didn’t. Tonight, Rick would pamper her, cook her dinner, and bring her flowers, a whole bouquet again. He would even find a few candles and light them, perhaps even cushions and blankets? They could sit on the ground like a picnic.

He could find a place somewhere inside, somewhere warm and cozy enough, flirt with her, pat her down, then ease her on her back… She would give in then. This morning they almost did it.

If Judith hadn't been in the bed with them, they were going to do it. Rick felt it. He remembered the feel of her lips on his skin, how her fingers traced across his chest and his stomach. God, he wanted her hands there, slipping under his shirt unconsciously, caressing him absently. It’d been too long—too long.

Yeah. Tonight, they would do it. Amanda would bring her condoms, too. She must feel like him, feel the anticipation. Tonight was going to be their night. He buckled his duty belt, looping the machete at his left hip. Even though his holster at his right hip was empty, Rick still liked feeling it. He approached the crib and picked up Judy while his baby girl was playing with the giraffe.

“Like the little giraffe?” he asked, tucking her at his side, looping his left arm.

He’d already checked her bottom before he started putting on his clothes, so they were good to go. He played with Judy for a little while, tossing her in the air to make her sputter into giggles before he started heading out of the room. “Let’s go find something to eat, honey bun—”

The nickname reminded him of Amanda. Made of honey and cinnamon, it was how Amanda tasted, how she smelled. His smile quirked up further, thinking of that, perhaps, perhaps instead of pancakes, she could make him honey buns.

Or Rick could make her honey buns.

He could feed her honey buns with his own fingers after the dinner, and then Rick could get his own dessert. Taste her honey bun. His thoughts were starting to sprawl a bit too dirty for a man who was carrying his baby girl in his arms, so he cut them off and stepped out.

He climbed down the steps and headed into the kitchen. Carol was inside, preparing breakfast, and Rick picked up the cinnamon scent again. Looking around, Rick saw the oatmeal with cinnamon and honey left on the counter. Amanda had already left the house, but left him and Judith breakfast as Rick got ready.

The notion made him smile as Rick sat Judith in the highchair they’d found at the daycare. Drawing back, Rick turned to Carol. “Carol, do you have any program you need to attend after midday? Late afternoon?”

Turning to him, Carol gave him a look, almost mocking. “Well, I haven’t started socializing yet, but yeah, that has been my thought, too—” she said casually.

Rick stared at her. Carol sighed. “You know go around, chatter. Be the kind, gentle lady everyone wouldn’t mind talking to—” Looking all motherly and affectionate as she prepared another bowl of porridge, Carol smiled at him kindly before the smile dropped off her face a second later, and her face became stoic once more. “Someone needs to dig around here. And I’m the best viable option.”

Curtly nodding, Rick accepted. “Yeah.”

“Why do you ask?”

Suddenly Rick felt like he was fifteen or something and was asking something of his mother. The notion was ludicrous, but it tensed him. He cleared his throat. “Uh—I want to cook dinner for Amanda tonight. But I’d like some help if you’re available.”

A kinder look returned to Carol’s eyes, but this time it wasn’t fake. She smiled at him with a small, genuine smile. “What are you going to do?”

“I was thinking of a casserole—” Rick replied. “And honey buns for dessert. Can we make it?” he asked, gesturing at the supplies on the counter with his head.

Carol arched an eyebrow as Carl’s voice suddenly remarked behind him. “Honey buns—” Rick heard his son’s astonishment in his baffled tone. “You wanna make honey buns, dad?”

Rick turned around. “Uh, I’m gonna cook for Amanda tonight, son.”

How Carl felt about that was clear in the way he clenched his jaw even without a word. Silently, his son walked to the island. Rick brought the oatmeal from the side of the stove to him, adding a spoon and setting it on in front of him. Carol silently slipped out of the kitchen, leaving them alone.

“She’s gonna stay with you now?” Carl asked, his head bowed, taking the spoon. “I’m gonna sleep on the couch in the living room?”

“Don’t be absurd—” Rick almost snapped, even though that was actually what he wanted, her staying with him, without Carl sleeping on the couch part, of course. They could arrange something.

“She came because of Judith and left after she went to sleep—” he told his son truthfully, his eyes finding his. “But she saw you bunking with _Beth_ , so she came back.”

To his credit, Carl’s cheeks blushed. “Uh—she—she saw me going downstairs. Said she was bored. We talked,” he explained. “I was going to leave, but she said she didn’t want to be alone—” He paused, giving Rick an accusing look. “And Amanda still hadn’t returned yet. It’d had been almost an hour.” His voice turned colder. “Took you long to calm down Judith.”

“Carl—”

“I’m just trying to understand if I’ll really get kicked out of the room, dad.”

Rick fixated the teenager a cool look. “You’re as good as fifteen, already started sleeping with girls in the same bed. Perhaps you really should move out.”

As the words left him, Rick also realized how true they were. Carl was turning fifteen the next month, a proper teenager now. Sharing his personal space with a baby and with his dad didn’t sound to him like the best idea. His son needed some privacy. He took a step towards him and placed his hand on his boy’s shoulder. “Son, if you need some privacy—”

“Oh, you _really_ want to get me out from under your feet!” Carl shook his hand off his shoulder with a scoff, pushing the bowl in front of him away.

“Carl!”

His son’s cool blue eyes found Rick. “Our photo—” he remarked with a voice as cool as his eyes. “It stayed in the prison. I want it back.”

For a second or so, Rick couldn’t understand what Carl was talking about before the penny dropped. Their family photo, the only photo Carl had remaining of Lori. “Son—” Rick started, softening his voice. “The prison is five hundred miles away and overrun. We can’t go back.”

“We can—” Carl insisted, his eyes never wavering. “It’s risky, but we have to take the chance. Others would want to do it, too. Beth wants her father’s Bible—” Again, for a second, Rick wondered to whom this crazy-ass plan actually belonged to for real. “We have to get them back.”

“Carl—” Rick tried to reason with the teenager once more, keeping his voice placid. “It took us weeks to get here. Weeks. We can’t go back—” he repeated, putting an emphasis in his words. “We _can’t_.”

If there was a way, _any_ way, to get that photo back for Carl and Judith, Rick would bring down the mountains and boil the oceans to make it possible, but there wasn’t. They simply couldn’t look back anymore.

“Carl—” Rick tried again to make Carl understand, but glaring at him angrily, Carl pushed to his feet, dragging the stool over the kitchen’s tile floor, scraping to make how he felt clearer, not that Rick would need any more indication for that.

“It was mom’s only photo—” his son hissed. “Her _only_ photo. Judy’s never gonna know her now, dad.” Carl’s stark blue eyes found his again before he turned around. “But I guess you don’t care about that much _anymore_.”

# # #

The bedroom was empty like Amanda had already expected. Empty and tidy. Even the bed was made again, and no sign of Beth and Carl. After changing into the yoga pants and a crop top sweater she’d seen in one of the drawers, Amanda stepped out of the room and headed to the bathroom to dry her hair a bit before she went to the kitchen.

Rick was right. It was getting colder, best not to leave the house with wet hair. It almost brought a smile to her lips—Rick fretting over her. It was cute and was making her feel those flipflops again. Between her legs still felt sore, especially her hidden spot Rick had played a bit more roughly, nibbling at her sensitive flesh as he drove her mad. Even the thought of it made her feel strange again. Getting down to business, Amanda chased away the memory and quickly stirred oatmeal, mixing dried fruits with honey and cinnamon. She left it by the stove for Rick and Judith after taking herself a bowl.

Carol came in to fix the breakfast for Mika as Amanda started to leave the kitchen, but there were no signs of the others. The living room was deserted. “Did you see Beth?” she asked Carol.

The older woman nodded absently, pouring water into a glass. “Yeah, she’s with Glenn.”

Amanda gave a nod herself, quickly downing a few spoonfuls of porridge. 

“You going running?” Carol asked.

She bobbed her head, remembering Carol had never seen her running at the prison, because the woman wasn’t there. “Yeah—” Taking another spoonful, she swallowed the warm mash. “Mika—” she began, “How is she?” 

Carol sent her a terse look, sipping from her water. “How do you expect?” she retorted. “She’s managing.”

“I wish I could do more for her after—after—” She swallowed again even though she wasn’t gulping anything. “After Lizzie,” she went on, straightening her back a little. “She—she witnessed something terrible.”

Mika had never looked like she’d been very bothered, but things had been hard for a long time. Perhaps she should see that psychologist. The notion irked her, but they were still out of their depths regarding such a trauma. Perhaps even Beth should see the therapist. A shiver almost passed through her, imaging to open up that to Beth. 

“Do you think she should see the psychologist of the town?” Amanda slowly asked for Carol's opinion.

The older woman gave her a long look, before smiling that way of hers, a bit kind, a bit cool, a bit stern. “I think _we_ all should see a shrink—” she commented, “But no. Best wait to see how she’ll settle. We should tread carefully before spilling the beans.”

Amanda nodded. She knew it wasn’t a good idea. Things between the townspeople and them were strained since the beginning. Aside from the Reese sisters and people Deanna had appointed them, no one had come yet. They were watching them warily from afar. Amanda could share the sentiment. Perhaps they were still waiting for their probation time to be over to mingle with them. She recalled the talk they had last night on the porch before she got sidetracked with Rick. _Either we find a common ground, or else we take it._

God, they’d been here what—three days and already started planning a mutiny. Then Joan walked into the kitchen, her expression as cold as ice. She looked like she didn’t sleep a wink last night. Amanda felt the pressure weigh heavier, suppressing a sigh.

She wanted to leave the house and cool off. The need was rising strong in her, everything becoming too much again. If she saw Carl now too—nope.

She jerked her head at Joan as a greeting and ushered herself out. Outside, the chilly morning air of late October hit her, and Amanda really felt better. She pulled her hair up in half-ponytail, feeling the still wet roots. She hoped she wouldn’t get sick, but she didn’t care. She wanted to run now. She felt her feet almost itching.

She eyed the red tarmac, and of course, the ditzy blonde was on the tracks just like always.

Ignoring her as she vanished at the other side of the track, Amanda stepped out, too. She kept a slow pace first, a simple trotting for warming up. She felt the wind cracking at her face more as she circled the track. Ahead of her, Beatrice was running with a steadier pace, but Amanda dutifully kept their distance. The chatty woman was all for the chatter, and Amanda wasn’t in the mood.

But it felt good, being on the track, feeling the wind at her face as she ran, the town slowly stirring up from its slumber. Her feelings were still in turmoil, but this was simple. She just ran. She picked up a pace a bit faster as she warmed up more, still not tiring herself on the first day, letting her muscles get accustomed again. She needed time before she could reach to her utmost agility again.

Time—

She cursed inwardly. She was beginning to hate that word, too! Speeding up, Amanda tried to push away the thoughts, only letting herself focus on the next step, even though she still felt that aching soreness between her legs.

On her next lap, Beatrice fell in beside her, slowing her pace. Amanda almost groaned, but kept it inside at the last moment.

“Hey, you’re a runner, too?” the girl asked, breathing laboriously, her lavish ponytail at the top of her head swinging with each step. Amanda’s own half up ponytail must be swinging in the same way, just less pretentiously. Everything Beatrice Reese did had that pretentious dramatic artistry. Last night, Amanda had felt so womanly, so feminine in the silk lingerie and robe, but now beside Beatrice, there was none of it. She felt as blunt and curt as ever.

She never ran like Beatrice. Beatrice had an idle, languorous rhythm as she ran, whereas Amanda ran like she was preparing for war.

The idea bugged her, and she shot a look over to the blonde. “Yeah—” she said curtly and wondered if it would be _terribly_ rude of her if she just passed her by, hastening her pace. As tempting as the idea sounded, Amanda kept her pace with Beatrice's.

“Do you work out?” Beatrice asked, taking her silence for an interest in small talk. “I do. Pilates. Sometimes yoga, too,” she chattered on, jumping on her feet lightly as they halted.

“We have a yoga studio and a reformer machine in the gym, but no one other than me really utilizes them.” The way Beatrice said that felt like she thought of it like one of the seven sins. “Clarice dances ballet, but I think she hates it,” she went on, her brows pinching. “Aiden and his gang usually just hit the boxing ring. Sometimes Pete joins them, too. Men—” she breathed out with a scoff, completely stilling. “Getting all sweaty and testosterony.”

“You have a boxing gym, too?” she said, her head whipping at the younger woman.

Amanda hadn’t still seen the gym completely, but the idea of a boxing gym intrigued her more than yoga and Pilates at the moment. They were good to get in shape and build muscle strength, endurance, and elasticity when she started her training class, but boxing…

She needed to get better. Train harder. She’d sat down on her ass long enough. What had happened in the woods could not happen again. Never. Never again.

She couldn’t have fought, couldn’t have held her ground against two people at the same time! Amanda was going to learn how to stand against _three_. She’d become a bit better in the woods for tracking and hunting during the weeks after the church, but she was _going_ _to_ get better.

She should start looking for her training field, start preparing. They had to be prepared. Always. Rick was right on that. They couldn’t lose this place, this security, but they had to be prepared.

With a curt nod, she left the girl, not caring if she was rude or anything, then went on circling the track. Less than half of an hour later, Rick found her. His expression was nothing like in the morning, his jaw was set, his expression stern. Amanda realized their realities had really kicked back in.

He must’ve had another spat with Carl. Not that Amanda was surprised. She knew the teenager _wasn’t_ going to like this.

She almost heaved a sigh as Beatrice passed them by, halting in her steps on seeing Rick, too. “Good morning, Sheriff—” she cooed flirtingly and wriggled an eyebrow at him. “Found any skeletons in the closets?”

Amanda turned her head aside, a clear dismissive gesture if anyone would care to read. She wondered if Beatrice was…reading. Out of the corner of her eye, Amanda picked up Rick’s look as it was directed at the heiress, but there was no humor in his expression.

“No, not yet—” Rick answered stiffly.

Not taken back with his cold answer as she moved backward, Beatrice threw a cocky smile at him. “Not surprising,” she laughed out, her voice almost melodical. “We’re a bunch of very _boring_ people.” With a little wink, she turned and started running off again.

Amanda turned and stared at Rick. He shrugged; his expression still tense. “You talked with Carl?” Amanda asked, moving her attention completely away from the ditzy heiress.

Rick bobbed his head a little. “Yeah.”

“I assume it didn’t go well—”

“Not only that—” he replied. “He said he wants to go back to the prison.”

To her credit, Amanda managed to swallow down a curse. “Wh—what?”

Rick nodded again, looking over to her. “Beth, too—” he went on. “I think it even might be her idea.” And why wasn't Amanda surprised? “Carl said she wanted to retrieve her father’s Bible, and Carl wants to find Lori’s photo.” Rick slanted her a look to see her reaction. A twinge in her chest tugged, but Amanda schooled her expression not to let it show.

“There was a photo of all of us he brought from home when we returned to my county looking for guns before,” Rick explained. “Carl wants it for Judith. He became angry when I said we can’t return. He—he said—” Rick continued quietly, “he doesn’t have anything else to show Judy how her mother looked like.”

Her jealousy fading, it left in its place a sadness. Amanda looked at him, sudden tears threatening to break over. “I’m sorry—” she muttered, not knowing what else to say.

Bowing his head, Rick gave her another half nod. “We can’t. We can’t go back,” he whispered, his hoarse voice not laden with lust like last night, but full of weariness. She moved in on him and brushed her fingers over the side of his face, not caring who would see them.

Rick looked up at her, his head still bowed as Amanda stroked him gently, knowing that affectionate gesture would distract him from his weary, dark thoughts. She could at least do that much for him.

“Amanda—” Rick whispered, almost closing his eyes at her touch, moving his head slightly over her fingers, his voice so heavy with things they had left unsaid between them.

She opened her mouth. She didn’t know what to say—what she could say—but she still felt she had to do something— _do something…_

Loud clamors rang in the air. Their heads whipped around at the sounds as they realized it was coming from the main gate.

The next second, they started running to the gate.

Some things never really changed; Amanda thought to herself with a snicker as they ran at top speed just before his name started echoing too—

“RICK!”

This time it was Sasha and Bob, coming down from the bell tower. Amanda had heard the woman saying this morning she was going to check it. “What happened?” Rick asked. “Walkers?”

Sasha shook her head. “I saw from up there—” she waved her head at the bell tower. “It’s Daryl and Joan!”

Then Amanda understood. She swallowed down a curse. They—they just couldn’t wait! Rick said he was going to talk to Deanna!

When they arrived, Daryl was already upon a man Amanda hadn’t met yet. He must be one of the guards, as he had a gun. Inside the walls, no one was allowed to be armed, but on duty, the guards were to carry firearms. The man looked angry and foolishly was about to get a fight with Daryl.

“She’s comin’ with me—” Daryl roughed out, hitting the man’s chest with his own. “Another word from you, I knock your teeth out.”

Amanda arched an eyebrow as Daryl _really_ looked like he was about to carry on with the threat, too. It was curious. Much like herself, under his surly roughness, Daryl had that simmering violent part he kept well repressed, but Amanda had seen the way the hunter lost his cool a couple of times in the woods and beat the shit out of the rotters.

It was as wild and savage as Rick’s beastly side, but Amanda had never seen Daryl getting that confrontational with anyone before. Usually, he would just send a seething glare and bark some surly, sassy comment with his heavy accent, and _usually_ , it was enough.

But not this time. The guard shook his head. “I told—”

Daryl’s arm raised— “Daryl!” Amanda screamed just as at the same time Rick lunged forward.

Rick grabbed the rising arm, fingers already fisted, before it collided into the man in front of him, towing Daryl into a hold. “Easy, man—” Rick hollered, trying to drag him away.

“You can’t keep her inside!” Daryl shouted as Rick still tried to drag him by force.

“Deanna’s word!”

“I don’t care!” Daryl broke Rick’s grip and charged at the man again, but grabbing him at his neck once more, Rick pulled him back and threw him aside.

“Both of you—” Rick yelled as Amanda moved to Joan. “Stop!”

“Joan! What are you doing here?” she asked with a rough whisper, tossing the nurse a terse glance.

Three days! Three fucking days! They just couldn't last three days before things became complicated again at all fronts!

“I’m not going to stay in!” Joan spat with the same ire as Rick wrestled with Daryl to keep him contained as more people from the town joined to watch the scene they were making. “I will _NOT_!”

“We won’t—” Amanda started, but she was cut off again, this time by Aiden Monroe as he arrived with the newcomers.

“What the hell is happening here?”

The guard turned to his leader. “The nurse wants to go to the woods—” he spat. “They said they’re going to set up snares.”

“Snares?” Turning to Rick and Daryl, Aiden sounded surprised. “For god sake, why do you want to set up snares?” he asked, shaking his head. “We have food.”

Rick let Daryl got and the hunter walked up on Aiden. “Because I damn well want to.”

“You go—” Aiden replied, looking back at Daryl coldly before he jerked his head at Joan. “She stays. Mother’s orders.”

Daryl took a step forward, and Aiden flicked a look at Rick. “You get a grip on your people, Grimes."

This time it was Rick who started stalking the younger man, pushing Daryl back. “And you, too, Monroe—” Rick rasped, his eyes glinting with that sharp edge as he glared at Aiden.

Amanda decided that it was high time to cut off all the testosterone leaking out of them. She walked between them just at the moment Deanna’s voice came from behind her.

“That’s ENOUGH!” They all turned to face the town’s leader. “Everyone. Move out.” She fixed a look at all three men. “No one leaves today. Aiden—” She looked at his son. “I told you I want your report on my desk this morning.” Her eyes shifted to the guard. “You—get back to your post.”

She turned to the crowd after that. “All of you, go back to your houses. Rick—come with me. It appears we need to have another talk.”

With that, the old woman spun on her heel and walked away. One by one, everyone listened to the orders, started leaving, even Daryl.

Rick’s eyes moved to her, and they shared a glance before he started following Deanna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, here starts the first of Rick's many 'summoned to the principle office' talk with Deanna. Hehe. Poor guy. With the issues of his people are dealing, I guarentee you there're gonna more summons like these :)  
> As you can guess, things have started becoming heated again as all of their issues start leaking.  
> More will come, and the next arc is going to cover Amanda and Rick's date! Finally!
> 
> Now, I'm back to dealing with Rick and Pete. Joy. Heh. Like always, please leave a comment if you're still reading and enjoying. It really motivates me. Thank you.


	9. 'Dating in the apocalypse'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Amanda and Rick prepare for their date. Rick also finds a present for Amanda.

Instead of the living room where Deanna Monroe had the interview, she led Rick upstairs. Rick had already understood that their houses were different even with the limited vista he had by judging her spacious living room at the first floor, but upstairs was like another world.

There were many rooms. Rick spied five doors before Deanna headed towards the one at the far corner on the east side. Rick couldn’t know if they were rooms or bathrooms, but something was telling him most of them were bedrooms. She opened the door to a room smaller but a bit cozier than those downstairs. It had an elegant designer walnut study table with dark black metallic feet, with a matching small set of bookshelves beside it on the left side against the wall. In front of the table, there was a pair of black leather armchairs and a small black glass coffee table between them. There was a round walnut dining table beside another floor length window, tucked in the corner, circled with four black chairs and a matching black leather couch with the armchair.

The whole room was decorated like all the rest of the house; elegant, expensive, a mixture of classic and modern, but this one had something that stood out like a sore thumb, something that caught his attention when Rick stepped inside. It was a small backboard that hung on the wall behind the table. On the board, there was only a number: seventy-one.

The old number must’ve been erased recently, and another number written down because Rick could see the remnants of the white chalk over the black where the number was. It didn’t take a genius to understand it was a count, but Rick couldn’t be sure of what.

Rick recalled the way Amanda had been counting the days without an accident, and her thirtieth day—how it’d ended. The feeling of failure and guilt found him again, but Rick didn’t let his feelings make his thoughts go astray. Deanna was right. They _really_ needed to have this talk. Then tonight he would have his dinner with Amanda. His eyes turned to the blackboard again as he sat on the armchair in front of the desk.

Deanna settled on her own chair behind her desk, her eyes on him, but understanding where his attention was set.

“It started with eight—” the old woman announced with a cool voice. “It was after the military left and didn’t return,” she went on, her voice having a weariness to it that Rick could recognize in himself. “We were here, but there were so few of us. We didn't know what to do or _not_ to do—” She uttered the words with a small, bitter smile. “My staff. We were together on the road but got separated before we were directed here. I worked with them for years. My team, my aides, my staff. I didn’t know how the world would work without them.” She swallowed, shaking her head. “I felt like I lost my limbs, parts of my body, felt crippled. Reg found me one night while I was smoking out on the porch, just staring in the dark. I was depressed.”

As Rick listened to the Alexandria’s leader’s story silently, the old woman’s eyes slanted him a look. “I had a detail, he was with me for years, protecting me. He was always there, guarding my back. He was a very taciturn man, didn’t like talking, but when he did, he told you things very simply.” She gave him another gentle smile. “Sometimes you remind me of him, Rick.”

Rick didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t speak. Deanna went on. “Reg told me then that before we separated Root had told him that death is certain, life is not.” She heaved a sigh. “He was that kind of man, never giving up. I wrote that in this room that night on a small piece of paper, put it in my pocket, and I still carry it all the time.”

She pushed herself upward an inch, her hand moving downward before she brought up a piece of paper to show him. Settling down, she put it back. “I started counting that day. Found this board from the daycare—” She pointed at the blackboard behind her back. “Brought it here and wrote down eight. Eight people. The next morning Reg and I started planning the wall.”

In silence, bowing his head, Rick nodded.

“Three days ago, I came up here after settling you in the houses,” the woman continued. “Wiped it off and wrote down seventy-one. And I _only_ intend to increase that number, Rick.”

Twisting his head aside, his neck still angled down, Rick looked up at her. “Then we both want the same thing.”

The woman gave him a curt nod. “I know. But I feel like you still haven’t understood how we do things around here.”

Rick shook his head, drawing back, his eyes lit. “You _can’t_ keep people inside,” Rick retorted. “They have to learn. They have to learn how to survive.”

“Yes—” Deanna replied coolly. “You mentioned that, and I agreed. When Officer Shepherd starts her training lessons, Joan can join—”

Rick cut her off. “It’s not the same—” he said briskly. “They have to be out. See it themselves. _All of them._ You have people here have _never_ been outside the walls!”

Deanna’s expression turned sterner. “They have no business outside.”

“It doesn’t work like that, Deanna—” Rick rasped out, leaning towards her over the desk, his eyes narrowing. “I’m so valuable that I can’t be outside doing legwork, Joan can’t go out because she’s a medical official, a valuable asset?” Rick leaned even further, staring at her eyes sternly. “First priorities?” he asked. “I heard about your list.”

The old woman’s gaze grew cooler. “Before we left D.C—” she spoke. “It was already done. The word was that they even lost the White House.” She paused to let her words sink in, but Rick didn’t need any reprieve. He already knew it was a lost cause. “I’m not stupid. I know what we face here. It’s a fight for the survival of our kind. And each life counts. In every way they’re capable.”

She made a little pause before she continued placidly. “Joan is a certified surgical nurse. She’s got experience. I’ve also got a surgeon, and a psychologist, and now also a medic, but alcoholic. That way they both are useless to me as trainees. Joan is not. Bob can go out. Joan cannot. I need Pete to immediately start training her so they both can start training _other_ people with basics. Time isn’t at our side. We’re playing a losing hand, Rick, and the odds aren’t on our side, either. We can’t risk that. We _have to_ maintain knowledge.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t make much difference when you’re out if you don’t know how to survive,” Rick retorted, recalling his words to Hershel. “Things being good in here doesn't change how things are out there.”

Her eyes fixated on his, Deanna clasped her hands in front of her, her elbows resting on the desk, and rubbed them as she took what he said in stride. “She can only go into the woods, not on runs—” she finally said, her tone holding a note of exasperation. She rested her linked fingers above her lips. “Always either with you or Daryl.” Rick gave a curt nod. “If something happens to her, Rick, I’ll be…severely displeased.”

“She’s one of my family,” Rick said, not having any qualms uttering the word. He wasn’t close to the nurse, but Amanda was. Joan had also saved Amanda and the others’ life in Grady, and Daryl—Daryl seemed to have…a thing for her going on. Joan was one of his people now.

“Good.” Deanna unlinked her hands and gave him another look. “She and Daryl?” the older woman asked. “Are they together?”

Rick scowled. “It’s none of your business—” he bit off again, but tilting her head aside, the old woman just stared at him.

“I thought we already cleared this up,” she remarked, this time letting her sigh escape. “A community is like a body, Rick,” she continued. “We’re _all_ connected. Every move we make, every choice we take. The leader is the brain of any institution. And what is the brain good for?”

Leaning down, she reached down to the side drawers on the desk and brought out a thick, very thick dossier. Inside it, Rick could see many paper folders. He knew he had one under his name inside, just like everyone else.

“It’s the assessment, assortment, and classification of every person inside these walls,” she answered her question as her hand patted the dossier on the desk. “That’s what my dossier is, Rick. The brain of our community.”

He scoffed. “To decide whose lives are expendable.”

“And you kill people regardless—”

“Some people are far better off dead for everyone’s sake.”

“And you think you can be the judge of that?” Deanna asked, arching an eyebrow.

His voice was clipped as much as her words. “Sometimes someone has to.”

The old woman laughed a little at that, linking her arms over the desk before she leaned forward. “Maybe I just should send you to Denise—” she mused out slowly. “The thought has crossed my mind. You always see the glass as empty. You all do.”

The kind warning clouded with stark humor soured his mood further. “None is going to therapy unless they ask for it.”

Deanna laughed again and patted the dossier again. “This is—” the old woman said. “To _ensure_ what we could leave for the next generation. Our legacy. You would’ve entered into my list even if I didn’t prefer you to be inside. No, just because you’ve managed something many wouldn’t dare anymore. A baby. That alone makes you my first priority, Rick.”

Rick stood up, not correcting her; Judith’s biological parentage wasn’t an issue he would share with the woman, even though Rick had never become sure of it. He’d just taken Lori’s word for it and locked away any dissenting voices within him. Either way, Rick understood what Deanna had meant.

It wasn’t only that the idea irked him. He’d killed so many people now he hardly stopped to think about the value of life anymore. As harsh as it sounded, Rick would kill anyone without blinking if he thought they had to be dead, and some people were really far better off dead.

No, what worried Rick was who Deanna would decide in the end were expendable for her. His admission was still there. As long as the woman understood who Rick thought _weren’t_ expendable for him, they would be good. If not…

Rick let the thought disintegrate in the emptiness of his mind. If there was something that today made clear, it was that Deanna didn’t test him further, but let Joan go. She had compromised and found a common ground.

He started walking to the door feeling their conversation had come to an end, but Deanna stopped him before he passed the leather armchair. “I think there’s still something else we should discuss.”

Rick turned to the old woman, cocking an eyebrow. “I believe we need someone to act like…an ambassador to make the adjustment and transition between your group and the townspeople a bit easier.” Hearing the words, Rick scowled further. “More precisely,” she concluded. “You need a partner.”

“No, I don’t—” Rick replied, staring at the woman, but she continued as if he didn’t interrupt.

“I thought at first Officer Shepherd, but she assured me that it’s best to keep you both apart workwise.” Rick tried not to react to the words, as a part of him still rioting at the idea. The fact that she was going to go out there without him, perhaps even daily rankled.

“Aaron mentioned Glenn.” His attention snapped back to the woman. “He said he was the one who cut off his ties when you were attacked. I think it would be good for him, too—” she went on conversationally. “Granted, he didn’t…talk much in his interview, but I think it’d be a good choice. Besides, I want you to focus more on the overall security than policing the town.”

Mulling the idea over in his mind, Rick thought about it. Glenn needed something to do, something to occupy him. After Rick had lost Lori, he’d turned into a mess too, but the prison and the conflict with the Governor had pulled him back to his feet. Glenn needed some kind of…distraction, too. And Deanna was right. They needed an ambassador, policing the town peacefully, and Glenn had always had kindness inside him no matter what. It made him the right choice.

The Korean man had a way with people Rick didn’t. It was a good choice. All things considered, he still had to admit teaming up with Glenn would work better than trying to work with Amanda.

Giving a nod in acceptance, Rick walked to the door, but Deanna stopped him once again as he gripped the doorknob. “There’s something else I want you to see—” the woman called out, standing up herself. She came to his side and gave him one of her smiles.

“Come—” she commanded as Rick opened the door. She led him to the living areas downstairs. “I wasn’t sure before, but Olivia found it this morning—” Deanna continued. “Olivia is our manager who is responsible for the pantry and armory.”

As his attention piqued further, Rick started listening carefully. He’d already learned where the armory was. It was one of the smaller houses in front of the community center. One of Aiden Monroe’s men was standing guard in front of it now, and Olivia must be the plump dark-haired woman Rick spied going around.

When they walked inside the room, Rick saw a sheriff’s uniform draped over the back of a chair. Halting in his steps, Rick looked at it. A few items were missing; there was no hat or duty belt, and no badge, but it was definitely a county sheriff’s uniform.

“We found it in the earlier days. I keep the houses we don’t use as we found them, and we don’t clear them out completely until something is needed, but we took this when we found it,” Deanna started explaining as Rick stared at the dark beige, long-sleeved shirt and olive green pants. There was a matching jacket with the shirt. “Unfortunately, there’s only one, but I think it’s your size. We can tailor it if you want. We’ve got a tailor, too.”

Running his hand over the shirt, Rick gave another absent nod. “Thank ya.”

Deanna smiled at him as if she actually meant it. “You’re really the sheriff of the town now.” 

# # #

After Rick left with Deanna, the townspeople started scattering when they understood the show was finished. Amanda glared at their backs as they slowly strode away. Sasha returned to the bell tower, towing Bob along.

Joan was still silently seething beside Daryl, but the hunter nudged at her a second later, sending Aiden and the guard the same kind of dire looks before they strode off as well. Amanda decided to follow their example. She better have a talk with Joan. Inwardly, she sighed. There were so many things to discuss, so many _talks_ they had to have.

She needed to talk to Beth again, as well as find Joan and see what the deal really was here. This—this wasn’t only about going out. No. Joan was always a level-headed woman. She didn’t react this way. There was a reason why Amanda had thought of her to seduce Gorman to get him to cool down. Not everyone could handle a man like Gorman. Just like how _she_ wasn’t able to handle a man like Rick.

The thought soured her mood even more, so sending another glare at Aiden and his men, she started walking, too. God, there were so many issues. Perhaps Joan was just suffering from PTSD. Perhaps they all were dealing with it. By the looks of things, Amanda wasn’t sure anymore.

Rick couldn’t sleep. Beth was acting out. Carl wanted Rick to go on a crazy supply run all the way to Georgia. Joan was openly confronting orders. Amanda was still having phantom muscle pain with anxiety.

As soon as the thought appeared in her mind, Amanda realized it wasn’t fully correct. She’d woken up this morning without any pain. With their shenanigans in the bed, it’d slipped her mind, but it was the first time in weeks she’d woke up without strained muscles like a drawn bow.

The implication was quite clear, but she didn’t want to think about that. She just needed to find Beth and Joan, to have a talk. And Mika. She had to see the girl, too. In the woods, she’d tried not to think of Lizzie, especially after Carol had joined them, but as Carol knew it, she couldn’t delay it any longer. Mika seemed normal, but Amanda knew damn well seeming normal didn’t mean everything was okay. She had to be sure.

She started hastening her pace before Aiden stopped her. “Hey, Amanda—” Amanda almost groaned, but halted her steps, turning around as the man jogged to her side. “About what happened—”

Amanda cut him off. “You just made it worse, Aiden,” she said in a clipped tone. “You should’ve stayed away.”

“These are my people—” Aiden confronted her. “Daryl was going to punch Jeff. And going out for snares?” He scoffed. “You don’t need to eat like savages now. We have food.”

“It’s Daryl’s business, not yours.”

“Not for him, but for Joan it is. We’ve got an established order here. A certain way how we do things.”

Amanda almost scoffed at the words. She had seen the way they did things, like it was a fun trip, making bets and stuff. She only shook her head, though, and started walking away.

A part of her, perhaps the part that needed regulations, rules, and procedures as much as she needed oxygen to keep herself stable, agreed with Aiden. The rules _were_ important. Deanna was the leader of the town, and she had given a clear order. There were even procedures on how to disagree with the policies, and in every sense of the word, Joan just went and walked all over them.

She should’ve waited until Rick talked to Deanna, so then they could try to find a common ground. This way, they only made things more complicated, but as she walked away from the main gate, Amanda wondered what she would’ve done if their positions were reversed.

Could she have managed to keep her cool? Somehow, something was telling her the answer wasn’t as easy as before. Even before the woods, even before the prison, she’d snapped at Grady.

Amanda found Joan sitting on the back deck like usual as she stepped onto the porch. Daryl wasn’t with her this time, though, so she was alone. Amanda first went inside and went into the kitchen to prepare tea. She’d seen lemon balm leaves. It made great tea that would reduce stress, improve the general mood, and cause lightness. She used to drink it a lot before. It would soothe Joan now, and she needed something to start a conversation.

While she boiled water, she stuffed the leaves into a tea infuser and dropped it into a big mug. She would prepare some for Rick, too, she absently thought while waiting to water boil. The tea was also good for insomnia, and God knew Rick’s mood _always_ needed to improve.

The thought made her giggle silently as she shook her head at herself. Beth walked into the kitchen. Turning aside, Amanda turned to the girl. “Why aren’t you in school?”

“It’s boring—” Beth said. “There’s nothing they can teach me there.” she said, but her voice was calm, not agitated. “It’s good for Mika, but not for me or for Carl. Please, don’t make me go there, Amanda.”

The way Beth said the words made something in her chest pinch. “Beth, I just want you to socialize with people around your age,” Amanda said. “A school is good for that.”

Beth shook her head. “We still can hang out together,” she said. “There are only five more there around our age. In fact, Clarice invited us to her house today to play pool.” She smiled. “So, I’m even going to a party.”

Amanda smiled. It was very telling how teenagers were able to mingle with each other in a short time better than adults. They met three days ago. Yesterday, they shared cigarettes in secret, today they were throwing parties. She wondered when making out would start. It eased her concern a bit. It was good, what Carl and Beth both needed. Soon, they all would settle down. Rick was talking with Deanna. They would find a common ground. Or else—

Amanda stopped her musings there. She wasn’t going to think of that else now. She’d agreed to find guns and ammo, but it was a precaution. Nothing more. Never hurt to be prepared. Then she thought of the condoms. Did she need them to carry on herself?

Things were escalating,—rather heatedly, between Rick and her. One moment they were kissing sweetly, slow and gentle, the next she was grinding on him madly. Honestly, she didn’t know how long she could keep it up, how long _he_ would take it. They almost had sex twice just this morning. She needed to be prepared. They—they couldn’t keep going on like this—

“What’s this?” Beth asked, spying the mug, bowing her head over it. “Smells nice.”

“It’s lemon balm leaves, a plant in the mint family—” Amanda answered. “Very nice, yeah. It’s good for nerves—” she added, giving the teenager a smile.

Beth quirked an eyebrow, putting her hand out to the mug. Amanda pulled it back, laughing. “No. It’s for Joan.”

“What happened?” Beth’s face sobered as she asked. “I heard Daryl had a fight at the gate.”

Amanda nodded. “Yeah. Deanna doesn’t want Joan to leave the town. Daryl tried to take her out to set up snares in the woods. They didn’t let her. So—”

Beth snickered. “Did Daryl punch anyone?”

Pouring honey into the tea for sweetener, Amanda shook her head with another subtle laugh. “No. Rick stopped them before things got out of the control.”

“Where’s Rick now?”

Amanda stirred the tea absently, her head bowed. “Went with Deanna. She wanted to talk.”

“Soo—” Beth drawled out. “How was last night?”

Her hand stopped stirring. She turned to the teenager. Beth was looking at her with a look, a smirk over curving her lips up. “You didn’t come back last night. He must’ve kept you occupied.”

Her brows knitted a little. “Actually, I did. I returned, but saw you sleeping with Carl in the bed.” Beth’s eyes widened. “Now. How did _that_ happen, Beth?”

Bowing her head, Beth shook her head. “Nothing happened. We just slept.” The teenager looked at her again. “He stayed because I didn’t want to stay alone.”

Recalling that was what Carl had said to Rick, Amanda nodded. “Rick said you want to return to the prison.”

Beth’s expression became cooler. “Our stuff is still there,” she said icily. “My father’s Bible, Maggie’s bracelets. I want them back.”

“Beth, honey, we can’t do it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s dangerous. I understand how you feel, but their memories always will be with us.”

Beth shook her head. “They would fade in time.”

Taking a step in, Amanda held the teenager at her upper arms and stared at her eyes openly. She knew her own eyes were shining with unshed tears, too, like Beth’s wide blue eyes. “Not as long as we are here. Not as long as we remember.”

Slowly, Beth nodded, and Amanda hugged her sister. Beth was her little sister, the one she’d never had, but always secretly yearned for. The family she had never had. They all were. Beth’s soft head tucked at the crook of her neck as Amanda tightened her arms around her, relief and peace finding her, a calmness as she held the girl in her arms.

Beth pushed herself out of her grip a few seconds later, passing a hand over her eyes. “Tea is getting cold—” she warned, cracking up a smile, her voice thick with emotion. Amanda laughed the same way, her thick laughter catching in her throat.

Taking the tea, she carried it outside to the back deck. She slipped in beside her friend on the steps. “I made you tea—” she said, holding the mug out to Joan.

Joan took it with a murmured thanks. Amanda checked around their backyard, her eyes trailing the flowerbeds. Their gardens and lawns were full of flowers and trees, and it was a good sight. But there was no sight of Daryl. Her eyes moved to the garage at the end of the driveway. “Where is Daryl?” she asked. “In the garage?”

“No—” Joan answered, giving a little head shake. “He said he was going out after we came back.”

Amanda almost stared at her wildly, but managed to keep it down at the last second. “Uh—” she breathed out, but Joan cut her off.

“I guess he just wanted to be away for a while—” she said. “I don’t blame him.”

This time Amanda heaved out a sigh. “Yeah.”

Joan took a sip from the tea and hummed. “Hmm. This is good.” She paused. “Lemon balm leaves, right?”

Amanda let out a low laugh. Leave it to her to recognize the medical teas. In times like these, Amanda could understand better why Deanna wanted her to stay in. Joan’s knowledge was too valuable. Amanda assessed that. Everyone could learn how to kill a walker, trace a trail, or set up a snare, but what she did was different. None of them had the necessary background training or perhaps even capability. Bob was a medic, too, but in time of crisis, Amanda knew whose word was going to be listened to first.

Amanda had been there. Deanna must’ve made plans for her. Amanda was certain. She would’ve done the same. They should’ve done the same at Grady, too, made Dr. Edwards train Joan and the other few medical staff at the hospital. They’d never done it, and Amanda was wondering why now.

Why had they done things so—so wrong?

It was a question she felt that was going to follow her to the grave.

Silently, they sat for a couple of minutes, watching the town. To her left, she could see a group of people around the maintenance complex that Rick and she had sat in its front yard hidden on their first night, bringing out panels. They must be reinforcing some panels. Even from afar, Amanda saw a big hulk of muscles and red hair and realized Abraham was helping them. They were other people, and she knew soon Rick was going to be there, too. For a while, Amanda thought to go to them as well, but something still kept her beside Joan.

“I know I acted out, Amanda—” Joan said at last, speaking slowly. “I don’t want to be kept protected like a porcelain doll.” She shook her head. “I can’t be that woman again.”

“I know—” Amanda said, bowing her head, shame finding her again for her part. “Joan—” she called out, raising her eyes up at her friends. “I—what I did—what I _didn’t—_ for my part, for everything. I’m truly sorry.”

Joan gave a nod. “I was so angry at you for a while,” Joan then accepted. “But even then I know I couldn’t blame you for everything. I chose it, too. Didn’t think about it thoroughly. I thought I could make a deal with the devil and wouldn’t pay the price.”

“You wouldn’t know how Gorman would turn out—” Amanda objected. “We both didn’t.”

“But we both were afraid,” Joan countered. “That was why you came to me, Amanda.”

Yes, Amanda had gotten worried.

“Rick—” Joan remarked suddenly, turning to her, her face deadly serious. “You gotta be careful. Sometimes—sometimes, I still worry.”

Understanding the words, Amanda shook her head fiercely. “No—no, he isn’t like that.”

This time Joan accepted it with a nod. “Yeah. I know he’s a good man, but he seems to me a bit too…frustrated. Even for his standards.”

Amanda laughed, but again understood the words. That’d been exactly the reason why she’d brought him into the den two days ago, so he could lie down and sleep a bit, calming down.

“I heard Judith crying last night. Did you go to him?” Joan suddenly questioned.

A blush raised to her cheeks. Goodness, she’d turned into a damn open book. “Yeah—” she admitted, bowing her head.

Joan laughed silently. “Stayed?”

“I wasn’t going to, but Beth bunked with Carl after I left. So I had to.”

She heard a soft snicker and raised her head. “So did you do it?”

Amanda shook her head. “Uh, not all the bits.” She ran a fidgeting hand over her neck, heat emerging out of her even worse. She felt herself turning red, feeling like flames running over her skin. Joan eyed her critically. “I—I need time—” she murmured, breathless.

“Calm down—” the nurse in her told Amanda in a commanding voice, her dark eyes still on hers. “Why do you get this anxious? You love him.”

Raising her head, Amanda stared at her friend wildly. Hearing those words from her—hearing them aloud from another. She knew she loved him. But hearing it from Joan…

Joan wasn’t Maggie. They were friends, they were close, but Grady’s strict hierarchy had always been between them, even though it was lessened during the weeks they wandered in the woods. “I don’t know—” she finally said after a pause. “I just do.”

Turning ahead, Joan gave another small nod. “I understand. We all have got issues now.” She snickered. “Perhaps we all have to go to group therapy.”

Amanda recalled the town’s jittery psychologist, laughing silently. “I don’t think Denise could handle it.”

Joan laughed back. “Poor woman.”

“You and Daryl—” Amanda said then, slanting a look at her. If they started talking about relationships, they might talk about _hers_ , too. “What’s happening between you two?”

Joan shrugged. “I truly don’t know.”

“Did you—”

“No—” Joan cut her off. “Not yet,” she confessed. “But I’m considering it.”

All in honesty, Amanda wasn’t surprised.

“Do you think he would be interested?” Joan asked then, her voice suspicious. “I—you know him, he’s a bit weird. I still haven’t figured him out. I thought first he had a thing with Carol, but it isn’t like that.”

“Daryl’s a funny specimen,” she agreed, laughing softly. “But Rick trusts him. He trusts him with his children. You know what that means for Rick.”

Joan gave her a nod. “Daryl trusts him, too, a lot. Perhaps even…you know admires him a bit like a big brother. And I don’t think Rick is much older.”

“Rick’s forty—” Amanda replied quickly. “I have no idea how old Daryl is.”

“One good thing with the apocalypse—” Joan snickered, taking a sip from her forgotten tea. “It made dating easier.”

Amanda had to laugh at that. Dating in the apocalypse. “You think?”

“Well—” Joan said with a shrug. “Back then Daryl and I wouldn’t have worked out, I guess. But now—”

Understanding her point, Amanda nodded absently. Rick and she wouldn’t have worked out in a normal world, either. Hell, they _hardly_ worked even now.

“I kinda like him, I think,” Joan went on. “I kissed him last night on his cheek. It felt…nice.” She made a pause before she concluded, “I want better memories, Amanda.”

The words brought her a pang of shameful ache in her chest again as Amanda tried not to think of how her memories with Gorman would be. She put a hand over her friend’s knee the same way Rick had done to her. “Will you talk to him?”

“I don’t know,” Joan replied. “I haven’t decided yet.” She paused again, looking at Amanda. “I guess I need time, too.”

Amanda let out a low laugh as she stood up. They were good. And they were going to be better. She just needed to find Mika now and made sure of it for her, too, then she would get prepared. She had a date tonight. She should prepare.

After learning Mika was in school, Amanda went to pick up the girl. She found her at the daycare’s kindergarten, playing with the other kids. They were six of them around Mika’s age or younger, all happily playing. The scene made her smile as she thought she might bring Judith with Mika in the afternoon after they ate. Judith had a liking for swings. They’d discovered it in the woods when Rick fixed her a swing from blankets and ropes in the trees, lounging over his lap. Amanda wondered if they would find a baby stroller around somewhere.

In the middle of the children, Amanda saw Jessie Anderson, the kids’ teacher and the wife of the town’s doctor, Pete Anderson; Joan’s soon to be boss.

The woman turned to her, noticing her approach. She didn’t look like the cool woman that night on the porch or the fidgety woman on their first day. Her face, despite the placidness, had warmth this time, and after a second of eyeing Amanda, the woman gave her a kind smile.

“Hello. How do you do?” she politely asked. “Settled in?”

“Thanks—” Amanda replied awkwardly. “We’re trying.” She paused, darting a look at Mika. “I came to gather Mika,” she explained, walking closer to the miniature picket fences in red, blue, and yellow that were circling the colorful garden. “Is it okay?”

When her attention turned back to the woman, her eyes drew to Jessie’s mouth. Over her bottom lip, Amanda saw a small patch of redness, but she couldn’t be sure if it was a souvenir of a night of passion or something else. Jessie had tried to cover it with concealer, but it was still in sight.

Her eyebrows clenched as Jessie noticed it. She raised her hand at her mouth. “Uh, Pete sometimes gets…heated.”

Amanda couldn’t decide how to take the words. Like her, Jessie had a fair complexion and possibly soft skin, and from personal experience, Amanda knew how much a pain in the ass that was in the throngs of passion, recalling the fingermarks Rick had left over her thighs this morning. Love bites were even worse. Deciding to make a mental note to keep an eye out, Amanda held out her hand to Mika. “Mika—we’re going. Carol’s making cookies.”

Mika chirped happily, and Amanda wondered if the girl really was well. She nodded at Jessie for a goodbye before she led Mika back to the house.

# # #

When Rick came back, they all stared at him or rather stared at what he was holding in his hands.

There were only few of them in the house at the moment; Carol, Mika, Joan, Amanda, and Judith, scattered around the couches and armchairs in the living room. Mika was with Carol and Amanda was on a blanket with Judith on the floor, playing with the baby girl as she tried to feed her Carol’s cookies, before she stopped upon seeing him, staring at his hands.

The scene, the way they lounged, made Rick feel the content and pleased feeling again, but he had work to do. He first needed to talk with Glenn, then find a spot for their dinner tonight and get prepared. His eyes roamed over the pillows Amanda had brought down on the blanket around Judith. The candles they lit at night to save energy were still on the coffee tables, Rick noticed before he asked. “Where are Carl and Beth?”

“They went to Clarice’s to play pool—” Amanda replied, still staring at the uniform he was carrying, dropping her hand with the cookie as she held Judy with the other. “Is—is that a uniform?” she asked, sounding incredulous.

Rick nodded, tossing it over the back of the couch. “Yeah. Apparently, Deanna wasn’t joking when she said she wanted a sheriff. She’s got the uniform.”

Amanda eyed him. “Are you going to wear it?”

The question halted him. Rick didn’t know. He’d put his uniform in a drawer when Carl got shot, put away his badge, feeling it was a necessary step he had to take. They couldn’t go back. Changing once again into a uniform didn’t feel right. Deanna possibly wanted it to make certain of his standing within the town; Deanna Monroe was that type of woman, but things didn’t really work like that anymore. In the old world, the uniforms represented authority and power, but they didn’t live in that world anymore.

He shrugged. “I don’t know—” he answered. “We’ll see.”

Amanda gave him a long look, trying to still a fidgeting Judith who was trying to scurry away from her like usual. “There's still some cookies left—” she commented, moving her gaze to the baby before she let Judith go. Judith started crawling over the pillows. “Help yourself, but sure to leave some for Carl, Beth, and Daryl.”

“I’m not hungry—” Rick replied, walking around the couch, and bending, he picked up Judith and sat down on the couch with her, settling the baby girl on his left knee. He passed his hand through her soft, short baby hair absently, and what the old woman had said about Judith trying to creep inside his barriers, but Rick didn’t let it.

He raised his eyes up. Carol was at the other side in the corner with Mika, and Joan was curled up in an armchair in the alcove across them. “Where’s Daryl?” he questioned. “And Glenn. I need to talk to him.”

“Daryl went to the woods. Glenn is outside—” Amanda answered quickly. “How did it go with Deanna?”

Joan perked up from her armchair, looking at him intently.

Rick turned to her, too, holding Judith’s tiny hand as she rocked herself back and forth on his knee, one of her favorite playtimes. “Not bad—” he said crisply and tipped his head at Joan. “She will let you go with Daryl in the woods for hunting. But only with Daryl, not alone, and you need to send a notice first.”

Joan’s expression stayed as cool as it was when Rick had entered, but accepted the compromise with a curt nod. Still seated on her folded legs on the blanket, Amanda looked up at him. “And Glenn?” she questioned.

“Deanna wanted me to have a partner—” Rick replied coolly, and returning her gaze, he held it. “Because you declined.”

Amanda quickly dropped her head, picking up the stuffed giraffe off the blanket. Rick almost sighed. Carol and Joan were giving them silent looks, too. “She said we need someone like an ambassador between the groups to ease the transition between us.”

Carol nodded. “Sounds reasonable. Glenn could be that guy. He’s always been good with people.” She paused. “It’d be good for him, too. A job.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too—” Rick agreed. “He needs to see Deanna.”

Joan rose to her feet. “I will find him. Perhaps I will talk about this Deanna, too.”

Rick gave an absent nod. “Might be good. But don’t push it—” he warned as the nurse left the room.

He turned to Carol, holding Judith as the baby girl slid on his knee towards Amanda to get down. Amanda was still playing with the stuffed animal. She noticed Judith’s movement and craned her neck up and smiled at the baby. His cock stirred inside his jeans seeing her earnest little smile, and he put Judith down.

But he turned to Carol instead. “They’re reinforcing some panels today,” he started, standing up. “I need to look at it, then make a patrol, then we start, okay?”

Carol bobbed her head affirmatively as Amanda’s gaze darted over to him when she picked up Judith. “Start what?” she questioned, her eyebrows pinching in that cute way when she was confused, not pissed, and the gesture made his cock twinge again.

Goddammit! Everything she did turned him on! The way she smiled, the way she looked, even the damn way she frowned!

“Cooking lesson—” Rick rattled, his eyes on hers as he spied Carol’s small smile out of the corner of his eye. “Took your advice. Asked Carol’s help. She’s gonna help me learn to cook.”

“Oh.” Rick almost lunged forward, scooped her up in his arms and took her upstairs when she blinked at him with that startled look, making a little swallow as she draped Judith across her lap.

Rick forced himself to cool down while Amanda still stared at him. “What’re you gonna cook?” she asked in a small voice. “A casserole?”

“It’s a surprise.” Rick leaned down and pecked her on the lips, just to see her flush.

She didn’t disappoint. Her eyes flicked away as her cheeks reddened, checking on Carol. She quickly bowed her head, giving the stuffed giraffe to Judith. Rick almost laughed, too, shaking his head before he turned on his heel and went out.

Checking the wall panels wasn’t the only thing Rick wanted to do, but he was thinking of the maintenance building to hole up in tonight for dinner. It was the most deserted area in the town, only patrolled at night. They could be alone.

He was going to have to bring the pillows and candles after he sent her out before the cooking and pick some flowers for her from the backyard. Leaving the construction site after a quick look, Rick headed to the maintenance building. He saw the tree under which they’d given each other hand jobs in the front yard under the town’s original masonry wall, and his cock twitched again, now fully erect, painfully rubbing at the hard denim cloth with each step he took. Still, Rick walked along the three or so feet high stone wall lined with thick trees.

Just as before Rick became sure everything was okay, and he almost went inside the building, but then he heard it. It was so low, such a soft whimper—a tiny meow that at first Rick thought he imagined. It came again a second later, this time a bit lingering: meeoow.

Rick spun around, trying to pinpoint the location. In a tiny little spot between the trees, where Alexandria’s majestic twenty feet metallic wall and the masonry wall intersected, there was an orange tabby cat, a baby, staring at him how little kittens stared, light mossy green eyes fixated on him without blinking with its head tilted.

She—Rick thought it must be a she—it looked like a _she_ , meowed again, and Rick realized she was stuck, couldn’t move.

Rick laughed silently, walking towards her. He reached out, putting his right foot inside a hole in the stone wall for leverage and pulled her out from where she was stuck. “How did you manage to get into there, little thing?” Rick asked lowly so as to not to make the poor thing more afraid as she was already trembling.

There weren’t many domestic animals left anymore, fallen with the cities. Pets had become easy prey not only for walkers, but also for nature’s predators. Rick felt sad, but it was likely how it was for modern people, too, becoming easy prey for predators in the wilderness.

He gently took the kitten, realizing he had been correct in his assumption, that it was a female. Her mother—wherever she was—must have whelped recently, because the kitten couldn’t be more than a few weeks old. She managed to live on her own until now, but Rick was glad to find her because he knew she couldn’t make it far alone out there.

He tucked the baby tabby under his arm, keeping her warm as he felt her trembles. She must be hungry, cold, and afraid. But Rick smiled. He’d found her. She was going to be okay with them.

And he had found Amanda a present, too. Rick knew she was going to like it. She’d slipped up that she used to feed stray street cats in her childhood, playing with them even at the risk of being punished. Yes, Amanda would very like this little cutie. Just like she missed her goldfish.

Rick walked back to the house, in his mind Amanda’s genuine smile playing, her lips spreading wide when she saw what _her sweetheart_ found for her. With his right hand, he stroked the kitty’s head gently, looking at the small brownish orange furball, its green eyes staring back at him just in the way Amanda did whenever she was caught unaware or felt shy.

Rick’s smile grew more as he trekked to the house. “Let’s bring to you your mama, sweetling.”

His reward was even better than he’d imagined. Mika squeaked, jumping on her feet as she saw Rick walk in the living room holding the kitten tucked in the crook of his arm. Amanda twisted aside, still playing with Judith on the blanket, toys and children books lying around them. Carol looked at him from the armchair she lounged in the alcove beside the window.

“Is that a cat, Mr. Grimes?” Mika asked breathless, scurrying towards him. “Can I hold it?”

“She’s too small, Mika—” Rick told the girl kindly with a small smile as Amanda got to her feet. “We shouldn’t scare her.”

“Rick, where did you find it?” Amanda asked, walking to him, too. Judith immediately started crawling after her over the blankets and pillows as Amanda’s lips curved up, her expression softening. She looked up at him. “She’s _so_ small.”

“Found her in a little spot inside the old stone walls while I patrolled. I think she was trying to get inside,” Rick explained as Amanda reached out and took it from him, smiling big. Beautiful, she was so beautiful, Rick wanted to take her in his arms and never let her go.

“Cats have the best intuitions,” he went on, his eyes gaze stuck on her, her smile, her eyes, her smell…honey and cinnamon. His own kitten, his honey bun. She moved closer to him as Rick got hit by her scent once more.

Her head bowed, she looked at her baby kitten, the little tabby curled up in her arms delicately. “She’s so cute.” She raised her eyes up to him again, her eyes glittering like emerald as she smiled. Rick still couldn’t take his eyes off her, his chest swelling with emotions seeing her just like this, the urge to take her in his arms rising in him even stronger.

“Thank you—” Amanda whispered to him so softly before turning to Mika. “Mika, come, let’s fix something for the kitty to eat.”

“Then you’re out—” Rick called out behind her back, sitting down beside Judith on the blanket. “I need the kitchen.”

She paused in her retreat, turning aside towards him to give him a shy smile. “Okay.” She paused again. “I—I don’t like heat much.”

Rick returned it with a bit flirty one. “I know you like sweet.”

A faint blush colored her cheeks, which made him twitch again, but Rick just smiled at her more. He wondered if he looked sheepish, because he felt he damn might, but he still couldn’t stop doing it.

Her cheeks flushing more, Amanda hurried to the kitchen. Carol sent him a look from the other side of the room, her lips holding up a laughing, yet gentle, smirk. Ignoring it, Rick pulled up his knees and placed Judith on them to bounce his baby girl.

# # #

When Carl and Beth had come back from Clarice’s house, and all the rest of their household somehow had learned that Rick was taking her _out_ for dinner tonight.

Carl still tried to keep it civil, despite his last round of bickering with Rick, his face stoic and expressionless as he played with Judith. Amanda almost gave up the idea, but she just couldn’t forget the way Rick looked at her as she went to the kitchen to feed the kitty.

The baby tabby was in Beth’s arms now as she sat on the bed with her legs crisscrossed, holding the kitty in her lap. Amanda guessed they had to find a name for her, but right now in her mind it was always kitty. The fact that Rick had brought her a cat was making it really difficult to stay calm as she felt her stomach was not only making flip flops now, but had turned upside down.

They were going on a date.

Rick had cooked for her, and something smelled very, _very_ nice. The house was permeated with it, something _sweet_. She’d even picked up scents of honey and cinnamon, but when she’d tried to steal a peek inside the kitchen, Carol hauled her out. Sasha and Bob had dropped by sometime after, Bob sniffing and curious, but Carol sent them away, too. Getting too crowded, and too damn anxious, Amanda went upstairs then and went to her bedroom to calm herself. So far she had done a poor job of it, and as time passed, closing on sunset, she just got more anxious.

“What are you going to wear?” Beth suddenly asked, looking up at her from the kitty.

“Uh—” She looked down at herself, her sturdy combat pants, boots, holsters, and a white linen shirt. “These?” she asked, but even when she did, she knew it didn’t sound good.

With a sigh, Beth put the baby tabby on the bed where the little thing curled up against her hip as Beth stared at her.

“Rick’s showing effort, Amanda—” the teenager talked to her like she was talking to Mika. “Prepared a place for you, cooked for you. I even saw him finding a dress shirt before he left. Now, you’re telling me you’re gonna go to him wearing _th_ _o_ _se_?”

“I don’t have anything else,” she muttered.

With another frustrated sigh, Beth stood up and went to the closet. She opened up one door, revealing dresses, skirts, pants, all hanging neatly, with jackets hung on pegs inside. There were even a few pairs of shoes at the base. “She was your size, too. Checked the labels.”

Finding clothes that would fit her was getting harder than she could imagine as they picked up scattered clothes on the road. She had a tiny, slim figure, and most of time, she would just swim inside the clothes. But this girl, they’d inherited her room and stuff, Amanda realized was as posh as Beatrice. And that was saying a lot.

“C’mon, Mandy—” Beth urged. “Pick out something.”

Heaving a sigh, she went and started looking through the pants. All of them must be designer cut. They were sleek, elegant—

“For the love of the god!” Beth exclaimed, snatching a pair of black classic cut pants away from her that she’d taken out of the closet. “No pants!” She threw the mentioned piece of clothing on the bed. “Pick a dress. You’ve got nice legs. Give him a show!”

“It’s chilly outside for dresses.”

Beth shook her head. “He said you’re gonna be inside. Besides, if you get cold, he’d keep you warm,” she added with a smirk.

There was something definitely wrong with how this was going. Amanda shouldn’t pick up dating…tips from Beth Greene, but she still stood motionlessly as Beth eyed the soft nude satin wrap dress and pulled it out. The flared skirt was cut a bit above the knees with gentle ruffles, but not scandalously short. It had long flared sleeves with a deep split neckline, but the satin fabric and sleeves would keep her warm.

Amanda took it from Beth. Overall, it was a good dress and she liked it, but… Beth tossed her an oversized boyfriend jacket in nude tones, the hem licking under her hips. It was a good dress jacket, too. Heaving out another sigh, she turned to Beth. “Shoes?” she asked. “I can’t wear these with my combat boots.”

Shoes were the most problematic. Dresses, you could stitch, or tie, or cut, but shoes either fit or not. “What’s your size?”

“Six.”

Beth threw her a grin, picking up one of the pairs to check under. “It’s your lucky day, Amanda.” It was a two-inch-heel ankle bronze colored booties that looked shiny and way too pretentious for her, but looking satisfied, Beth nodded.

“Okay, you go take a shower, and then we’ll do your hair and makeup.” Her face must have showed off an alarmed look, because Beth smiled at her again. “Showing effort. Remember?”

When she was back in the room, quickly crossing the corridor wrapped in towels, Beth was waiting for her with a hair curler. She didn’t even want to know how the girl had found it. “Asked for it from Clarice today,” Beth still explained with a wicked grin, lifting the iron up in the air.

Without a fight, Amanda demurely headed to the vanity’s cushioned stool. Beth curled her hair after blowing it dry and made her toss them back and messed them up to undo the structured curls. The loose, unkempt strands fell over her shoulders as Beth tangled her hand in her hair to get more volume into the roots. When she was done, she even fixed it with hairspray. Again, where she’d found it, Amanda didn’t even ask.

After Beth was finished, they made quick work of the makeup, her eyes only framed with eyeliner and mascara, putting on copper eyeshadow over her crease, and they went with a nude lipstick, too. When she gazed at the mirror, once more Amanda almost couldn’t recognize herself. She—she looked…beautiful.

Amanda always knew she was pretty, her childhood passed hearing it and getting scared of it; every time someone called her pretty, she used to want to hide herself, but she’d never felt it herself. For her, it just meant—just meant she had to be careful. Had to be alert and protect herself. The basement—

She stopped the thought. She shouldn’t think of that now. That basement belonged to the wilderness, to those days in the woods, not here, not inside these walls, not to this warm house.

Trying to smile at Beth, she pulled herself back together, and breathing deeply, she smelled honey and cinnamon, and all other things that Rick had made especially for her. Her lips curved up more on their own account. She didn’t have to force it anymore.

“Thank you—” she told Beth earnestly, meaning it as she held the teenager’s hand. It was so warm in her palm.

Nodding, Beth smiled back at her. Amanda took the dress then and went behind the dressing screen. Beth had left a white lace thong beside the dress, too. Amanda took the tiny underwear with her own lace bra they’d washed after arriving. This underwear was all clean. Amanda wondered if it was Beth’s doing.

She quickly slipped on the underwear, anticipation building deep in her again, something in her core throbbing, fluttering. She told herself there was no reason to be this anxious, but her motor functions didn’t seem to listen to common sense. The satin dress slipped over her skin smoothly, and for a second or so, she really wanted Rick to see her like this—which was absurd because _he_ was the reason why she was dressing like this.

Amanda smiled at the silly thought, putting on the ankle booties, the additional two inches immediately making her feel more feminine. She walked out around the screen .

Beth smiled at her again. “You look very beautiful, Amanda.”

“Thank you—” she whispered, returning the smile as she twisted aside to look at the mirror one side to another.

Her breath almost stopped. She _really_ couldn’t recognize herself, the elegant woman staring back at her in the mirror. Amanda stayed frozen in place, her eyes glued on the mirror.

“C’mon, let’s go downstairs—” Beth said, taking her elbow to lead her to the door. “There’s still a bit of time to kill until dusk.”

Taking back her arm, Amanda shook her head, her fixed curls moving rapidly with her agitated movements. “No!” she opposed heatedly. No.

They all must have come back to the house now as the sun would set soon. They’d talked last night until it was time to sleep before they separated between the houses until they became completely accustomed to the town. She couldn’t sit down there like _this_.

Carl—where was Carl?

She tried to compose herself again as Beth gave her another silent look. “I—I’ll wait here. Uh…I need to check my makeup—” she sputtered out. “Yeah. Redo my hair.”

Beth must’ve decided to have mercy on her because she nodded. “Okay. Wait here. _Redo_ _your hair_ —” she mouthed with a smirk. “See ya downstairs.”

After the teenage girl left, Amanda slumped on the bed, not feeling elegant or womanly one bit, resting her satin covered elbows on her knees as she hunched forward. She put her head gingerly against her palms.

She had to stop acting like a damn teenager! She was a woman in her thirties. There was no logical reason to be like _this_. No reason at all. “Argh—” She grunted out quietly, wanting to scream, an inch away from pulling out her hair.

Okay. Enough of this shit, she told herself, drawing back up as she squared her shoulders. She was thirty years old, a police officer. They were going to have dinner together.

They ate together all the time. She just had prettied up a bit for it. No big deal. She just had put on a satin dress, designer boots, and a thong underneath, but it was no fucking big deal.

God!

They probably, _most_ probably, were going to have sex tonight.

A smirking voice inside her was also snickering at her that all these efforts Rick was putting out was to get into her panties. He was buttering her up, pampering her with sweet things, and goddammit, Amanda liked sweet!

Rick was making a hell of a good job of it. This was what she’d asked from him. Taking it slow and gradually, so, he was doing it. And, a part of her was melting inside as the other part just felt more anxious until Amanda felt she would be torn apart in two.

It felt like even now there was a heavy stone in the pit of her stomach, and between her legs was throbbing with need, with that dull soreness from the morning. It felt even worse than their first time in the woods, and hell, she couldn’t believe any anxiety she might have would ever be worse than _that_!

Once again, she was wrong.

This was worse. Yet, she still wanted it. Her eyes moved over to the kitty that still sat on the bed curled around herself. She smiled at the cutie, her fingers going over to her tiny head to coddle it. “Never fall in love, okay, kitty?” she told the kitten seriously. “It’s _very_ messy.”

The baby tabby rubbed her nose against her palm. “Meow.”

Amanda sighed. “Yeah. I know.”

Stroking the kitty’s head absently, her eyes darted up to her backpack on the bed where the package of condoms was still tucked inside the zipped pocket. She wondered if she should bring one to their date. They most probably were going to have sex. She should be prepared.

 _We gotta be prepared—_ Rick’s voice echoed in her mind, and her own words: _Never hurt_ _s_ _to be prepared._

Twisting back, she reached out for her bag. She rummaged through it, and finding the package, she took it out. She fished out one blue package from inside, thinking of where she would stuff it. The jacket they found didn’t have any pockets, and neither did the dress. She looked at her deep cleavage that showed a glimpse of her lace bra through the split neckline. She shifted the neckline, to start tucking the condom inside her bra, but before she finished, her hand stopped.

Amanda stared at the wall, nibbling at her bottom lip, then pulling her hand away, she shoved the condom back into her backpack and stood up. Bending down to pick the kitty up, she supported it at the crook of her elbow as she picked up her jacket.

Then Amanda left the room, leaving the backpack on the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whee, the next IS the date ;)  
> And, I've been waiting for a long time to make Rick find a kitten for Amanda, and finally! She's gonna have a name too, not just 'kitty', hehe.


	10. 'I owed you a date'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick finally keeps his promise to Amanda; them spending a whole night alone together, a night to remember...

The management office tucked into the corner of the maintenance building smelled like saffron, honey, and cinnamon, sweet and savory just like Amanda liked it. Pushing the desks and chairs over to the corner of the square room, Rick created enough space to lay the rugs over the concrete floor and lined them with cushions from the house.

Rick had found enough cushions and burgundy rugs in the attic, and Carol had discovered a big, round, ornate bronze Eastern style mezze platter. He made four short legs from the panels to set up the platter upon them and fixed it with nails. He put on another burgundy tablecloth over the low table he’d prepared to hide the crude work, but overall, the whole ambience just looked like they were in a cozy booth in a Moroccan restaurant. Just like Rick desired for tonight.

The food smelled delicious, a saffron rabbit casserole with greens Daryl had hunted and foraged today and honey buns. Carol had walked through him in every step. Judging by the smells, Rick would say he hadn’t done a bad job.

Not wanting the fluorescent light to kill his scene, Rick had brought the bed lamp from the master bedroom and turned it on. The lamp gave a sweet, dim orange hue inside the room, as the candles he had taken from the living room and put on the platter cast a gentle, flickering light over the food and tiny flowers he’d scattered around the small serving plates.

Rick was wearing a white dress shirt over his jeans, the first buttons of his collar open, his cuffs rolled up to his elbows. The shirt was a warm, lightweight fabric, and his jeans were comfortable, but inside them, he was already more than semi-hard. It wasn’t as bad as before, although he still twitched whenever he thought of Amanda’s first reaction upon seeing what Rick had prepared for her.

Playing the scene in his mind a couple of dozen times as he waited for her, the anticipation was as much a sweet torture as the tightness inside of his jeans. He couldn’t even remember the last time he felt on pins and needles like this, even before the turn, but then Rick was married almost sixteen years ago, at the age twenty-four. That could hardly make a extensive dating life.

Everything in their marriage had almost seemed like a chore they used to perform regularly before the outbreak, willingly but without any passion. As Rick felt that tense knot deep inside while waiting Amanda to show up, he realized what had also been missing from his life. Amanda was teaching him what kind of a relationship he really wanted in his life, the openness, the desire to share, even without knowing she was doing it.

Rick wanted to take her in his arms and talk to her for hours, just like they’d done last night, about them, about other stuff, sometimes just teasing, flirting but just talk, lie down together, holding each other, touching each other, being in contact. Feeling it.

God! Last night was so good. Rick wanted to spend the rest of his nights like that. There it was. He finally admitted it. The thought was getting more prominent in his mind. He wanted Amanda in his life. All the time.

They had bumps in the road ahead of them, Rick knew it, but they were going to get over them. Amanda wanted it, too. She couldn’t admit it even to herself, but she was feeling it. She must be. Their lives were hard, always an inch away from a disaster or a tragedy, but they should have this respite. She was his respite, taking her in his arms, listening to her breath, stroking her curves, softly rubbing her breasts, cupping her ass, they were all his respite. He needed her. And he was tired of trying to hide it.

Rick looked around, the cozy ambience, the burgundy-brown cushions, red rugs, tablecloth, flowers and candles, the sweet savory food—his honey buns.

They were going to hop over that bump tonight. Amanda was going to see there was nothing to be afraid of. If she just accepted that, if she just gave in and opened herself up, let herself open up like their first time, then Rick could show her. He wanted to have her savoring each moment, make love to her slowly, not fuck her senseless like a beast, but sweetly, gently, and he didn’t care a damn how cheesy it all sounded.

He damn well wanted cheesy, too!

“Rick!” Her voice called out from outside the room, and he heard a hesitant timbre in her usually clear, placid tones. “Rick—!”

“I’m down here—” Rick shouted back and waited, twisting aside to the door, standing up before the door cracked open, and she slowly stepped inside.

Rick stared—stared—stared. He could stare at her for an eternity and would never get bored even for a second.

She was so beautiful, it hurt him to look at her. His cock reacted to the sight of her almost immediately, hardening to a full erection, but it wasn’t what hurt. No. It was her beauty. “Amanda—” he could only manage to utter. 

She bowed her head, getting shy in that way of hers, her cheeks flushing, Rick could see even in the dim light. “You look so beautiful.”

She was wearing a satin dress that flowed over her body like a waterfall, diving with a deep neckline that revealed a good amount of cleavage to him. The sight of that almost made him pull her into his lap and bury his head over her breasts, eager to taste them again. The skirt of the dress left her slender legs bare to his admiration, which he did, in great detail. He wanted to do what he had done this morning, drop in front of her on his knees and make his way up over her smooth skin until he found her gem between her legs.

Rick wanted her like that again, burning with desire for him, every ounce of her self-control gone as she clenched him tightly between her thighs. They had to be like that, no barriers between them, letting them see each other naked. The feeling had been always with him, since the beginning, since their first time in the woods, his blind desire to see her naked. Rick now truly understood what it meant.

“Thank you—” she murmured shyly. “Beth insisted I should wear a dress,” she said, trying a smile, closing the door. “You know—showing effort.”

Rick smiled back at her, holding out his hand for her. “I’m glad she did. You really look beautiful.”

She tugged a lock of wavy hair behind her ear as she walked towards him, and the coy gesture was so…charming, his cock throbbed again watching her striding towards him slowly. “It looks beautiful, too—” she murmured, gaze roaming around the room before she took his offered hand and slowly descended onto the cushions right beside him. Their bodies almost touched each other, and Rick moved an inch to close that little gap between them, too.

“You did all of this—” she started, but Rick cut her off with a chaste kiss.

He drew back an inch, looking at her eyes. The candlelight over the plate was shining in the emerald depths thickly framed by her eyelashes, making her look absolutely gorgeous. He twisted and picked up the flowers he’d hidden beside him under the platter.

“Welcome—” he whispered to her, giving her the bouquet he had prepared for her. “Thank ya for coming.”

Amanda smiled, shaking her head as she bowed it over the bouquet. “You’re trying to charm me—” she mouthed, her eyes raised up to his over the flowers.

Rick chuckled, taking off her jacket. “So obvious?”

She nodded…almost girlish. “But I like it—” she said after a second, one hand shooting up to play with his collar as she lowered the other one with the flowers to her side and put it beside her. “You don’t look so bad yourself, either.”

“Not so bad?” he repeated in a faint murmur, leaning forward for another kiss.

“Hmm mm—” she murmured back against his lips. “Fairly acceptable.”

Putting her hands on his chest, she stopped him before Rick could deepen the kiss. “It really looks very beautiful, Rick—” Her voice was so low, deep in her throat as she gazed at his eyes, light flickering inside her own green ones before she smiled at him again. “Thank you.”

Rick took her hand again and kissed her fingers gently. “I owed you a date—”

Her smile grew bigger, playful. “Oh, you say don’t get used to it. This’s a one-time-thing?”

He twined his fingers through hers and tucked her hand against his inner hip. Her warmness reached him even though the rough fabric of the denim. “Nope. Next time, you cook—” Rick shot back.

“Ah. Okay.” Amanda leaned over the table, smelling the casserole. “Is it saffron?”

Rick nodded. “Rabbit with saffron and greens.”

She laughed. “It must be priceless now. How can they find it?”

Rick gestured with his head. “Do you have to ask?” he asked with another laugh. “This is Alexandria, the town of extravaganza at the end of the world.”

“We should write it on the wall—” she shot back and eyed the platter, taking her hand off him. She gripped the platter’s edge with both hands, leaning forward. “That’s flat bread. You made it too?”

“It was easier than I thought.”

Her head twisting towards him, Amanda gave him another look. “You’re a very surprising man, Rick Grimes.” She turned back and continued her inspections. “And honey buns—” she said, her voice sounding surprised.

“Hmm mm. They’re for you.”

She cocked an eyebrow, facing him again. “For me?”

Pivoting his body an inch, Rick leaned over her and kissed the side of her neck, rubbing his nose across her skin to fill his nostrils with her scent. “Sweet, honey, and smelling of cinnamon. You’re like honey buns.”

“I’ve been accused of being worse things,” she gasped, trembling under his touch when his hand ran a line across her spine. She felt so good, so fucking good, Rick almost forgot the dinner. He wasn’t hungry. Not for food. He traced his lips upward, finding her spot under her ear. Trembling, Amanda whimpered. “Rick…”

Rick battled himself not to unzip her dress and get her under him right that moment. His cock was throbbing with each breath, but he steeled himself. He drew away and started serving her food to get himself under control. Putting a generous amount on the plate, he added flat bread, too. She usually ate so little, sometimes Rick got worried.

She darted her eyes over the service platter, searching. “Rick—” she called out, her eyes still checking. “Where are the forks?”

“Didn’t bring ‘em—” Rick answered with a shrug.

Turning to him on her pillow, Amanda stared. “What?”

“Well, the ambiance—” he replied, waving his hand slightly over their dinner as he reached for his own plate.

He took a small piece of flat bread and put a significant dollop of the meat and greens from the casserole on top and rolled it. A thin drop of the casserole’s grease trailed over his forefinger. Raising his hand, Rick licked it away quickly with the tip of his tongue as Amanda stared at him.

“This is how it’s eaten,” Rick mouthed before he bit half of his rolled bread.

Then he leaned over to her, still watching her intently, and offered the remaining half to her. She tilted her eyes down, eyeing the morsel, then slowly she touched the bread at his fingers with her lips and took it inside her mouth. Her lips lingered over the tips of his fingers, her tongue flicking out as she raised her eyes up to him, not moving.

Rick swallowed. Her eyes glued to his, Amanda drew back, and started slowly chewing and swallowed. “Good?” Rick roughed out, his voice so thick he almost couldn’t get the word out of his throat.

She nodded, still looking at him. “Delicious—” she breathed out, then her lips quirked up. “You’ve really made an effort.”

Struck with her glowing beauty, Rick watched her as Amanda shifted aside slowly to mimic his process and rolled a little wrap herself in the same way. Turning back to him, she took it up and offered it to him with a gentle smile.

Still staring at her eyes, Rick slowly lowered his head and bit the morsel. “Deanna—” Amanda remarked as Rick drew back, swallowing the food. “How did you convince her? Did she really have a list?” she questioned.

Rick really didn’t want to talk about Deanna, about her dossier, about anything other than _them_ right now, but he still answered. “Yeah, a dossier,” he replied as Amanda ate the other half of her wrap. “We all got a file in it,” he continued before he started rolling another piece. “She called it the brain of Alexandria—” he added, scoffing. Amanda had already finished her last bite, so Rick offered her his again.

She leaned in again, her eyes raising up to meet his as her brows knitted. “The brain of Alexandria?” she asked, her lips already touching his fingers. Rick suppressed a shiver, her breath tickling his skin before she bit the piece.

When her teeth gently nibbled at his fingertips while she was doing it, this time Rick shivered. His cock twitching again, Rick forgot for a second what they were talking about as the urge to throw her down and climb on her clouded everything else in his mind.

“Uh—” Rick breathed low, his eyes still struck on her as Amanda leaned back. “Assessment, assortment, and classification.”

Munching the food slowly, Amanda slowly shook her head, wiping her fingers to dry them with the napkin on the tray. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

She reached towards the water pitcher and poured herself some water. Rick had scented the water with flowers from the backyard and with a few herbs in the kitchen, following Carol’s instruction. It had a nice floral and herbal scent, and Amanda sipped it, a pleased expression crossing over her face. She looked down at the glass, eyeing the contents.

“This—it’s very nice. Sweet and herbal.”

Rick nodded. “Carol suggested scenting the water with flowers for aroma,” Rick answered. “Added a few herbs we found in the supplies.”

Amanda nodded in appreciation, taking another slow sip, and made a sound that sounded like a soft purr. “I taste lemon balm leaves,” she commented, her words becoming languid, her breath languorous. “Is that so?”

“Among other things—” Rick said with ease she put down her glass and smiled at him gently.

So beautiful, she was so beautiful…glowing…candlelight flickering over her face, glimmering in her green eyes. “I made lemon balm tea for Joan today,” she went on softly. “Thought to make for you, too.”

Rick smiled, leaning her closer. “You did?”

“Hmm mm—” she hummed in that slow, relaxed tone. “It reduces stress, insomnia—”

Rick kissed her lips lightly, tasting the floral, herbal wetness tinted with saffron. “You take good care of me—” he whispered to her.

Amanda laughed, little bells jingling in the air… “Do I?”

He nodded, making a move to deepen the kiss, but Amanda pulled back an inch and turned aside to roll another slice. Smiling at the flirty gesture, Rick let her. It was so good to see her like this, smiling, flirting, enjoying herself with him.

“Glenn—” she started a second later, but Rick cut her off.

“No—” Rick shook his head. “No more talking about business. We’ll deal with it tomorrow,” he told her. He really didn’t want to talk about those things now. They were worries for tomorrow. Tonight belonged to them. “Tonight is about us.”

Her hands halting, Amanda turned to him, her gaze grew heavier. The next moment, she nodded. “Okay—” she accepted. “No business talk.”

Rick nodded in return, still looking at her. “Uh—” she breathed out, reaching out to take her glass, leaving the food, but he felt she was just doing it for the sake of doing something, her eyes drawing away. He let her.

She took another sip from the scented water, and then they lapsed into a silence.

Rick cleared his throat, not sure how to go on. He’d said tonight was about them, and he wanted it to be like that, but suddenly he didn’t know what to do. Rick looked at her, and Amanda looked at her glass… Rick realized they didn’t know how to make easy small talk about themselves as silence stretched between them louder and louder until Amanda started laughing softly.

Her laughter sounded weary this time. Rick shook his head, before bowing it, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “We _literally_ can’t find anything to talk about,” Amanda muttered.

Rick sighed, reaching for water, too. He gulped a big sip, wishing it were…something harder. Perhaps he should’ve brought liquor. But the idea of not being sober still bothered him, so Rick had decided on scented water. “You gotta walk me through this one,” she told him, lifting her head, setting down her glass. “Can’t say I’m the expert with this…dating stuff.”

“Uh, well,” Rick drawled out, taking another sip from his water. “I’m a bit rusty on that front, too.”

She looked over to him again, then suddenly asked. “How old were you when you got married?”

The question almost took him by surprise. It was the first time she’d ever asked something about his old life—about his marriage this openly. Amanda was a smart girl. She could do the math. Carl was almost fifteen, and she knew he was around his forties now. She knew he’d married young. There was more to that question, so Rick answered directly.

“Twenty-four. After my first year at the Sheriff’s department. We met during my last semester. Lori was in her second year. We were just acquaintances,” Rick went on. “We met again at a dinner party after college. We dated around six months before I proposed.”

The end of their love story. Rick had proposed, Lori had said yes, and they got married. Most people thought that Lori was pregnant, just like how Amanda had probably wanted to ask. She wasn’t.

Rick had fallen in love. Lori was a pretty woman, caring and gentle, but also having a fierce side Rick admired, and she wanted to be a family as much as Rick did. It was all a new experience, his first love in adulthood, and honestly, Rick had gotten tired of the dating life.

He’d started feeling the urge to settle down. So, about six months later, even before her semester ended, he’d bought a ring, took her out to a fancy restaurant, and proposed at the end of the evening.

It was a decision he’d never regretted, but in hindsight, Rick couldn’t help but think if the problems with their marriage had started first because they married too young, then became parents even before they truly knew themselves.

Bowing her head, Amanda gazed at her glass, running her finger along the rim before she slowly asked what she’d been wondering. “So she didn’t…” she trailed off, raising her head. “You know—get knocked up or something?”

Rick shook his head. “No. I wanted to marry her,” he answered truthfully.

Her eyes stared at him this time, having another thing Rick couldn’t read fully. “Why? You—you were young.”

“I don’t know—” he answered with a shrug. “I wanted to be a family, I guess. Have my own family, my own kid.” He waved his hand over the platter. “Uh, honestly, dating has never been my strongest point.”

She burst into low laughter at that, the heavy moment between them dissipating. She eyed the platter again. “Well, this one hasn’t turned so bad.”

Rick caught her gaze, tilting his head forward. “I’m glad to hear you think like this,” he told her seriously.

Her eyes flicking to him, she quickly brought the water to her lips, bowing her head shyly. The urge to kiss her—to taste her again was so strong in him, Rick was almost done. But he didn’t want to break her flow. She’d opened up, asked him something about his past, and Rick wanted to see where she could take it. He didn’t want to rush things. No. He wanted her relaxed enough to ask him about his past, even talk about her own.

So Rick stayed where he was, just inches from her pillow, but still so close that he could feel her warmth as Amanda dawdled with her water before she started to wrap another piece of rabbit, potatoes, and greens in the flat bread.

“Um—are you an only child?” she asked slowly, raising her head, her fingers rolling the bread. “I’ve never heard Carl talking about aunts or uncles.”

Rick nodded. “Yeah. Only me. Mom got pregnant once when I started primary school but lost it.” He smiled a little as Amanda looked at him with sympathetic eyes. “I was wanting a baby brother.”

“And—and your parents—” she asked with a small voice. “Were they?”

He cut her off. “I lost mom before I started college, and dad when Carl started primary school.”

Amanda scooted to him closer, closing that inch between them as their hips pressed against each other. “I’m sorry—” she muttered.

Rick shook his head. “It’s okay.” Amanda lifted her head up to look at him, folding her legs beside her. Her dress bared a generous amount of her legs, pressed against the denim cloth on him. Rick wanted it gone. He wanted to feel her warmth. She felt like a furnace next to him, heating him up.

Looking down at her, his eyes darted over the ivory skin at her cleavage, catching the sight of his necklace before they found hers again. She was really glowing with a golden-red hue, eyes glinting emerald. “You said your grandpa was a soldier—” she spoke in that low, languorous whisper, leaning against him even closer, their gaze still on each other. “Was your father, too?” She paused a second, her gaze turning a bit more searching. “Or was he a cop like you?”

Rick coiled his right arm around her waist and brought her almost onto his lap. “No, he ran his own furniture business. But he was one of the first responders for our town. Always used to say he wanted to be a cop.” He smiled at her. “We used to have strolls together in the summer when I was little. He told me stories. Sometimes Grandpa came along. It was good. I did it with Carl, too.”

Amanda’s smile was even brighter than all the flickering lights around them. Her hand touched the side of his face. “I can just imagine you doing that—” she whispered.

Rick wasn’t sure what that truly meant, he couldn’t focus on anything other than her glowing eyes and skin—her warmness, her heat. His eyes flicked over her lips, and Rick leaned on in, but twisting aside, Amanda slipped an inch away from him again playfully. Rick almost smiled, half amused, half exasperated. Mostly, exasperated. His cock was so hard, rubbing inside the tight denim cloth of his jeans as he shifted on the cushions. She was like a torture, a sweet torture.

She gazed at the honey buns. “I haven’t eaten honey buns in years—” she muttered, looking at the little sweet pastries, then her lips curved up in an affectionate way. She spun aside again towards him. “I was in this lady’s house for a while. She used to bake for us. Cakes, honey buns, cinnamon rolls.” Her smile grew wider in fondness. “Even gingerbread cookies at Christmas. She was a religious woman, devout, stern and firm, but kind. For every occasion, she always had a verse from the Bible.” She laughed, then paused, her eyes turning to him again. “Dr. Hershel kind of reminded me of her.”

Rick smiled warmly as she finally mentioned something from her childhood willingly without probing. Something that made her smile fondly. “How long were you there?”

Amanda shrugged, her glowing state dimming a bit. Rick wanted to kick himself. “Not long—” she answered. “She was really old. Got sick before the year ended. Had to leave.”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s okay—” she mumbled back. “I’m just glad I knew her.” She gave him a smile, but this time it was melancholic and pointed towards sweet pastries. “So—honey buns?” she asked. “Haven’t tried them yet.”

Reaching to the plate, Rick took one of glazed, fried pastries and leaning over, offered it to her, but before she could close her lips over it, Rick snatched his hand away and took a bite.

Amanda gave him a look, tilting her head, her mouth turning down into pout, and Rick really, really had to battle himself not to throw her down on the cushions. “You said they’re _mine_.”

Shrugging one shoulder, Rick munched the sweet slowly, staring into her eyes.

She watched him as he did, her eyes glued on his, then she scooted over to him again and swung her right leg over his lap. Nestling herself against him, her curves nimbly fit against his edges like they always did.

Amanda lifted her head, practically astride over his lap now. Rick brought up his sticky thumb with honey, cinnamon, and sugar over her lips. She made a low moan, her eyes half closing. “Honey, cinnamon, and sweet—tastes like you—” Rick whispered, rubbing his finger over her bottom lip to make her taste it. “Try it.”

She licked her lip and his finger, half-closed heavy eyes still staring at him. With the honey and cinnamon, he could also smell her arousal, that distinctive smell that made him feel like he’d bottled up a whole bottle of whiskey. Rick didn’t need any alcohol, because he had her. His hand—still half sticky, went down between her legs under her dress.

Rick smirked contentedly when he realized she was wearing another thong underneath. He ran his fingers over her folds, over her wetness. Dripping wetness. His smirk turned rougher. “So wet—”

She flushed even worse, hiding her head at the crook of his neck, shifting over his lap further until she was just over his twitching cock. Rick hissed as she settled her ass over his crotch. His eyes shot up to her as she stared at him with those glazed, hazy eyes, and Rick was done.

He hauled her up and flipped her down onto her back in single motion, a surprised low squeak leaving her as she stared at him. But she didn’t make a move, just lay there sprawled out over the cushions, the hem of her dress slid up over her hips, and Rick caught a glimpse of white lace underneath.

Drawing up on his knees, he grabbed her right leg by the ankle and took off her boot. Raising her leg, Rick brought the inner part of her ankle up to his lips. Amanda was simply looking at him now. The wild haze of lust was replaced with something akin to anticipation and curiosity.

Rick tucked the sole of her foot under his jaw, then tilting his chin, he kissed the tattoo at her ankle. Her smile spread wider. He decided to kiss her foot properly later as he started fucking her, holding her leg at his shoulder. Even imagining her like that made his cock throb painfully, but that was for later. All those plays were for later. They had the whole night. A whole night to themselves. Alone. No one in their right mind would expect them to return tonight. Not even Carl.

No. They had a whole night ahead of them, finally alone. Without walkers, without interruption, without the sense of imminent danger, without anything. Just them. And right now, Rick only wanted to taste her, every inch of her skin, her every curve, her every plane. 

He was going to fuck her so slow, so gentle, to show her how they could do it. Then he would fuck her senseless, flip her back on her stomach or on her hands and knees or her legs over his shoulders. God, he wanted to try every position that he’d ever thought of with her. He wanted to make her come countless times, make her lie sprawled out in his arms with pleasure and contentment in bliss, soothed down.

Her boots off, Rick leaned down over her, and he opened the side zipper of her dress. It was a beautiful dress, but he wanted to see her naked now. When her zipper was undone, he pulled it off her, the satin fabric sliding over her body smoothly as Amanda raised her arms up to help him before he threw it away across the floor.

There she was before his eyes, only wearing the lace underwear: the small bra and even smaller thong. It was a sight out of his best dreams. Rick drew back up, just to look down at her, drinking in the sight of her. He memorized it as she lay before him, glowing in the candlelight, looking up at him still dazzled. The small, faint scar on her left shoulder was there, too, and lowering his eyes, Rick caught the sight of the pale, scarred line that ran over the left side of her navel; the reminder of what had almost stolen her from him completely.

Chasing the sudden fear that tightened his chest from looking at her scar, Rick twisted aside to reach the sweets on the platter. She was safe now, with him, and they were going to forget about that memory. Make new ones. Better ones. Amanda’s eyes widened for a fraction as she realized his intention.

Rick turned to her, putting down the sweet plate next to the cushions on the floor. “I told you, you’re my dessert—” He took a honey bun and stared at her as his fingers started breaking the glazed pastry apart over her flat stomach. “My honey bun.”

She twitched as the damp, sticky, glazed tidbits started raining down on her stomach. Rick drew her legs up and parted them to nestle himself in between them. He held her bent knees while lowering himself over her before he started eating the sweet bits off of her.

Each time his tongue flicked over her to take another piece into his mouth, kissing along her pale scar, she twitched more, her breath hitching in harmony with his tongue’s fluttering. Rick also discovered another thing while he gathered each piece off her skin.

Amanda was ticklish, highly sensitive to contact, especially sensual contact. The knowledge brought to him another surge of satisfaction as she warmed up further under his tongue and lips, which almost made him forget his own throbbing cock. When he was done with the small bits of pastry, he started licking the sticky remnants of the glaze, sucking her belly button, and Amanda truly started squirming under him.

Her hand shot down and grabbed his head as he played with her belly button, his tongue fluttering across the sensitive spot as her whimpers turned to deeper moans. This time, Rick didn’t mind it. He wanted to hear her moans, her groans—loudly—as she lost herself in passion. She had no reason to be silent now. They were safe. Only the two of them. Alone.

The feeling found him again, strongly. He’d made it. Kept her safe, brought her to safety. He hadn’t failed this time.

His emotions ran even wilder, the fire in him incited with his last thought. He raised his eyes, his head still between her hands, and they shared a heavy look. Rick broke their contact and pulled back an inch and yanked down her tiny bra to cradle under her breasts as he snatched another honey bun from the platter. He started breaking it apart over her breasts. He was going to taste her, every inch of her skin.

Resting himself over her completely, he decided to give his interest first to her right breast. Bowing his head, he mouthed the swell of her soft flesh, sucking the sweet tidbits from around her nipples, licking, sucking, nibbling. Amanda was groaning deeply and loudly now, without a care in the world, just like how Rick wanted.

Her hands went down again to his head, and she started directing him to make sure he gave each breast the attention they equally deserved as she squirmed under him even more. When he finished _his_ _dessert_ , he crawled up towards her lips again, and made her taste honey buns off his lips.

Just at the right moment, her hands eased down to his shirt and tugged the edge of it out of his waistband. Her fingers slipped under it quickly then, tracing lines to feel him. Rick shivered at the touch, her fingertips still half sticky sliding across his chest, but there was an urgency in her touch, too, to feel more of him—to touch more of him…

It boiled his blood further. Too much cloth, there was damn too much cloth between them, and Rick had no patience left. He quickly drew up onto his knees and started taking off his shirt properly, but skidding over the cushions in a sudden sleek move, Amanda pushed upward fluidly and joined him, kneeling in front of him.

Slow and sweet passed in his mind, but it was only a distinct echo now. They’d waited long enough… _damn_ long enough. They had a whole night ahead of them. Rick would show her then.

He popped the buttons as fast as possible, almost ripping them off as Amanda lunged at his jeans. The button at the bottom of the shirt resisted. Cursing under his breath, Rick jerked it off forcefully. The white little button flew in the air and landed on the other side across the room. Her head snapped aside as her hands halted, Amanda watched him, but Rick just yanked the damn thing off him and threw it aside.

Amanda turned back to him as Rick took over what she’d stopped doing. He started unbuckling himself. He still had his duty belt on. He always felt naked without its heaviness cinched around his hip. The absence of his gun was worse, but he couldn’t go without his duty belt.

Rick unfastened it, leaving it on the floor beside the cushions. Amanda was still watching him, another dazzled expression on her face, but he didn’t give her time to think over it.

He didn’t want her to think. No. Not now. He wanted her just like she was a few seconds ago, assaulting his belt. Wanting him as crazily as Rick wanted her. His duty belt taken care of, and he didn’t waste any time after that. He caught her and started kissing her hungrily. He was hungry—not for food, but for her. She still tasted of honey and cinnamon beneath his lips. His mind started turning foggy, his blood rushing into his veins.

Rick backed towards the corner over the cushions, leaning against the wall as he dragged her down with him and made her sit astride him. As soon as she was in direct contact with his painfully bulging hardness, Rick started rocking them, holding her hips.

It was still a torture, feeling her almost bare aside from her tiny underwear against his jeans, not even a sweet one, either. Just pure torture. His hands trailed up over her back, unhooking her bra, and his mouth found her breasts again. He nibbled the sticky remains of honey over her nipples with the tips of his teeth as Amanda groaned loudly.

“Rick—” she breathed out in a long whisper, but Rick couldn’t be sure if she was warning him or imploring, because below she started grinding over him, grabbing his shoulders for support, arching backward.

Just to make it certain for her, Rick reached down, still nibbling at her nipple and pushed two fingers inside her at once. They slid in her wet channel with no resistance as Amanda groaned loudly and almost screamed when he curled them up inside her. She leaned down over him, linking her arms around his neck, and rested her forehead on his shoulder to muffle out her groans.

“Scream if you want—” he whispered to her, looking up at her from between her breasts. “There’s no one here but us. We’re alone. A whole night. Like I promised you.”

Her eyes shifted down, finding his gaze… “Rick—” she moaned again in that voice, bordering imploring and warning. “Rick—” He hit her spot another time, as shifting her, Rick pressed his thumb on her triangular connection. When he started sliding his thumb, Amanda bucked violently, and with a smirk, Rick realized he found her clit.

He started sliding his finger swith a quick rhythm, building her up, but not letting her come. Her groans became even louder as he did, her body completely giving in. “I wanna eat you up, baby—” he whispered to her hoarsely, playing with her. “Do you want me to? Wanna me eat you out again like in the shower?”

“Rick—” she only groaned loudly again, shivering, grinding, bucking at his hand. He kissed the side of her face gently, his eyes searching for hers. They were half closed again, hazy with simmering lust.

“Amanda—” Rick whispered back to her as with his other hand he unbuttoned himself and unzipped his jeans.

Lifting up his hips an inch, drawing her upward, Rick eased them downward. He wanted to get himself free. He wanted to be naked with her, take her slowly, but they were so far gone now, and Rick feared to break the connection he made with her.

He settled down, edging his jeans down under his hips, and scooting over the cushions before he freed himself fully. Pulling his hands away, he dragged her down on his bare cock. Her head snapped up at him, her eyes having that wild look again.

“Easy—” Rick breathed out calmly with the last ounce of his willpower. Her slim thong was still between them, but so tiny between her folds. The sight of it was just making it worse for him. Making her leaning on him, his cock tipped upward, Rick started rocking her over his length.

It was something they’d never done before, but somehow it made Amanda soothed. Soon Rick managed to slow himself down, regaining his self-control and letting her pick her own pace, which she did, sliding herself sleekly over him in languid movements, her arms still loosely wrapped around his neck, her fingers tangling through his hair.

The sensation was almost enough to make him flip her over again and drive himself inside her, but when she also started kissing his chest after twisting downward, her lips tracing his own scar at his side, Rick stopped himself, digging his fingers into her hips.

“Good?” he whispered to her, lifting his eyes up to find hers again, tangling one hand into her hair at the nape of her neck to make her look up at him.

Their eyes caught each other briefly before her half closed, misted ones darted upward, turning away from his. Amanda never managed to hold eye contact long during sex, something Rick wanted to change tonight, too. “Yeah—” she moaned softly, rocking herself over his length. “Good…It’s good.”

When his cock started tripping over her entrance, making him hiss through his nose, Amanda groaned louder. Rick started kicking off his boots, using the edges of the cushions and the other pair. He had no idea how he managed it, but when he was finally free, he rolled off his socks as well, using his feet. Raising his hips, keeping Amanda still in contact sitting astride on him, he freed himself completely from his jeans and kicked them away, too.

Finally, finally he was free, both of their bodies naked, just aside that little, tiny lace thing. Rick didn’t mind it. Not one bit. Amanda drew her eyes to him again as shifting, Rick started skidding them over the cushions.

Her body was leaning over his completely now, their naked bodies at full contact as she rocked herself over him. Rick stared at her as she did, cupping her cheeks and her neck, and started kissing her slowly, so slowly, lingering, just like how he wanted, their rhythm slow, gentle, affectionate, her hands tangling into his hair further as she kissed him back.

Her wet folds stroked against his cock almost lazily, and it was killing him. “Amanda—” he whispered to her as he tilted his hips just an inch up, adjusting their position.

The tip of his cock skimmed over her entrance before Rick pushed a shallow thrust under her. She groaned loudly as his breath itched, his arms easing down to circle her waist to bring her down over his length further but still letting her decide on the move.

He wanted her to sink down on him, take him inside her, accept him fully. All of him. “Amanda—” Rick rasped again against her throat, his voice almost imploring now. He so wanted her—wanted to show her—

Amanda tilted her head back and their eyes found each other again. Rick saw a myriad of emotions inside them, her eyelids full open now, her irises glazed emerald. “Rick—" she breathed out. “W—we can’t.”

Rick stared at her. That was a _funny_ statement to make in their current situation but before he could make a sound, she continued. “C-condoms…they’re in the house—” she uttered as lust and desire in him suddenly dimmed as if someone threw a bucket of cold icy water on him. His eyes narrowed at her. “We—we can’t. It’s too dangerous.”

“Why didn’t you bring ‘em?” Rick asked in a clipped tone.

Why? Why on the god’s rotting earth she didn’t bring a condom if she was so damn hell bent not to have sex with him without one? As soon as the question rose in him, the answer came, too.

Rick froze further, his blood turning cold, lust fading, leaving its place a chilling anger. Caught by his question, Amanda was staring at him with that wild look again. He just gave a terse jerk of his head and pushed her aside, off him and onto the cushions.

She landed beside him as Rick sat up, swinging his legs onto the floor.

“Rick—” Rick heard her low, hesitant voice behind her as he grabbed his boxer briefs and quickly put the damn things back on. He wasn’t going to sit in front of her with a damn hard cock while she constantly refused being with him.

No. It wasn’t even just being refused, the hurt of being rejected. No. Rick knew she’d developed this weird blockage, hell, even in their first time she’d managed to literally block herself to him, but after everything they’d been through, after everything… They almost had sex just this morning!

Rick knew damn well how Amanda’s mind worked. She _was_ a smart girl. She knew tonight they might have sex. She knew he wanted it. She knew he was trying to flirt with her, date her. He was doing all of this just for her, to show her how much it mattered to him, how much _she_ mattered to him. She must all know it, yet she still left the damn condoms in the house!

Deliberately. She hadn’t forgotten them. She didn’t bring them on purpose. Just so she could have a backup plan, an excuse if she would need it. And that hurt more than the rejection.

His temper winning over everything else, his jaw squared as he reached down and grabbed his jeans. He caught the cushions shifting as Amanda scooted over to him. Her hands slid up over his chest from behind as she rested herself at his back. Rick raised his hips to pull up his jeans as her fingertips slowly moved over his chest just in the way she knew he liked it.

His hands halted at his hips. “Rick, I—” Amanda whispered, then stopped.

Rick twisted his head and looked at her.

In silence, Amanda looked at him, then her hand started wandering downwards. Rick continued to stare at her as her hand moved over his lower stomach before inching below and slipping inside his jeans and boxer briefs.

His hesitance gone, his eyes narrowing even further with anger, Rick grabbed her hand and stopped her.

“Rick—” she breathed out, her voice sounding devastated now as he jerked her hand away.

“I don’t want it,” he clipped, turning ahead.

“Rick, please let me get you off—”

His anger flared even worse at the words. His head whipped back at her. “Do you honestly think that I just want to get off here?” he snapped, jumping to his feet and shaking his head.

Looking at him, craning her head up, her expression shifted, too. “You said we’re gonna wait.”

“Wait—” Rick replied. “Yeah, we wait…but—but—Amanda, I don’t understand what we are exactly waiting for?”

Her expression shifted even more. “Well, it looks like you just wait to get into my pants.” She cocked her head around. “Are these—” Her hand waved over the plate table. “Is all this, flattering, pampering, taking me out to dinner, cooking for me, making all of this, only aiming for that end?”

He stared at her a full minute, his jaw held so tense it hurt, all of his arousal gone, only anger boiling him now. “I can’t believe you—” he finally said, grabbing his shirt from the floor.

A panicked expression crossed over her face. “Rick—” she called out again as he started buttoning himself up. “I—I didn’t mean it like that.”

He took her bra and her dress and threw them at her. “Yeah, really?” he replied coolly. “Then what did you mean?”

Bowing her head, she stayed silent, her fingers playing with the hem of her dress. Rick shook his head again. “I’m not upset because you’re refusing to have sex with me, Amanda,” he told her openly in the same clipped tones. “I’m frustrated, very. But I _am_ upset because you don’t even give us a chance.”

Her head snapped up after that, giving him a look, and Rick saw hurt in her eyes, too. “That’s not true. You know it’s not true. I wouldn’t have been here wearing this damn thing—” She raised her hand, shaking the satin dress that she had draped over her nakedness. “If I didn’t want to be.”

“I know that—” Rick replied. “But—” He paused a second. “Why didn’t you bring a condom tonight, Amanda? What happened to it never hurts to be prepared?” he questioned. “I know you. There’s no chance in hell you didn’t think I wouldn’t want to have sex with you tonight, and _yes_. I _do_ want to get into your pants—” His tone turned surly acerbic as he threw her another look. “I’m a man. Forty years old. How long do you expect me to behave like I’m thirteen?”

She bowed her head, but started putting her dress back on silently, leaving her bra on the pillow. Rick wondered if she was even aware. She didn’t seem to be. He turned to the door and started walking.

Panicked, she sprung to her feet, the satin dress sticking to her body with the faint remnants of honey that were still left on her skin. It colored the nude dress with a hue of light golden and copper, and her wild look with tousled hair hurt Rick worse. Her neck, collarbone, and the side of her breast where her cleavage was left bare had started sporting small hickeys, love bites that Rick had made a few minutes ago.

Rick let out a subdued sigh. “Where are you goin’?” Amanda asked, suddenly perking up, looking at him anxiously.

“Back to the house—” Rick answered calmly. “I want to rest.”

She shook her head in a quick jerk. “No… No. If we return to the house now everyone will realize we had a fight.”

Turning back to her, Rick stared at her, his eyes almost widened, because he couldn’t fucking believe what he had just heard. “Amanda, I _really_ can’t believe you. Are you more worried about the fact that the others would know we had a damn fight than actually having a fight with me?”

Bewildered, she stared at him again. This time Rick heaved a deep sigh as he opened the door. “You’re unbelievable.”

Rick left the management office, and thankfully for all things good and sacred, he heard the soft clinks of heels following him. If she’d insisted that she would stay, Rick didn’t know what he could do. Angry or not, he would’ve never left her alone here without him. He didn’t care if they were safe behind the walls or not. Nowhere was truly safe, but Rick would truly lose it if she wanted to stay here alone.

But she hadn’t, so she was just following him silently, staying a few steps back. Rick exhaled another deep breath tiredly. His emotions were running wild, swinging between anger and exhaustion, and in the meantime, frustration was a constant in him. He just wanted to go to the house now, lay down with his kids, and listen to their breathing as they slept while Rick just stared at the ceiling.

There was no sleep for him tonight, he damn well knew it.

When they approached the house, Rick saw the lights still on behind the porch. They were still up. He felt the same reluctance Amanda had trotting on the driveway path. An encounter with others was the last thing he wanted to deal with, but Rick didn’t care. He had more stuff to care about—like the woman silently treading behind him, but he didn’t want to think on that anymore tonight, either.

The porch was empty, Daryl had to be around back. Rick opened the door as Amanda stopped behind him again with a word. Stepping inside quickly, he crossed the hall directly and went to the staircase. Upon hearing the door opening, but no one coming inside, a few heads popped out of the living room’s doorway when they were in the middle of the staircase.

“It’s Rick and Amanda—” Rosita’s accented tones remarked a second later, and Rick heard the bafflement in her usually stoic tones. “They came back.”

Rick quickened his steps, crossing the landing upstairs and striding to the left. Amanda stopped at her bedroom as he continued to the next one, twisting aside to steal a glance, hesitant as her hand hovered over the doorknob.

He was just tired now. Opening the door without a glance, without a word, he walked into his bedroom. The door closed behind him with a heavy thud, but not before Rick caught a glimpse of her flinching.

# # #

As the door closed loudly behind him, Amanda flinched back at the sound.

Her eyes pricking, she barely kept her tears at bay. She knew she was already a sight, her dress all sticky and stained; her hair tousled, her makeup ruined. And the looks she picked up glancing in the living room as she climbed up—

She hitched on a breath, and quickly cracking the door to her room, threw herself inside. The room was empty, Beth had to be downstairs too with the kitty, and at the moment, it felt good. She wanted to be alone. In fact, she even wanted to be outside, to go out and find herself a tree she could curl up under and cry her heart out.

Instead, she just went to the bed and dropped herself down. Rolling onto her side, her tears started slipping from her eyes at last. She turned her back on the door. She didn’t want anyone to see her like this if someone came to check on her, but the nudging disturbance was still within her, prodding—she—she hated sleeping with her back on the door. Still, she kept her back on it. She couldn’t lock the door. It was Beth’s room, too.

Everything—everything was a turmoil in her. Every damn thing. She didn’t know anymore what she did, why she did what she did. Why the hell did she leave the condoms in the room at the last moment?

_I am upset because you don’t even give us a chance._

Rick’s words echoed in her mind. He was angry, he was upset, and he was hurt. Amanda had made him feel like that. The acknowledgement made her feel worse as she finally gave in and started sobbing. The black mascara running into her eyes hurt her eyes even more, which made her cry harder as a consequence. She wondered if she could get even more pathetic, but she was afraid to ask that question now. A couple of minutes later, when she must’ve turned into an utter mess, a soft knock sounded on the door.

“Amanda—?” Beth’s hesitant voice came from the other side. “Ya okay?” the teenage girl asked.

“Yeah—” she made a noise, trying to calm herself. “I’m ‘kay.”

“Can I come in?”

Amanda stayed silent for a few seconds. She almost replied she wanted to be alone, but something held her tongue. Shaking her head at herself before she turned on her other side, she faced the door. “Yeah.”

Beth walked in, with the baby tabby lounging sleepily in her arms. The girl eyed her critically as Amanda drew up against the cushions a bit, still half lying on her side. “Is everything okay?” Beth asked.

Amanda gave her a silent look.

“Yeah. I know. Stupid question.” The teenager sat beside her on the edge of the bed, her eyes roaming over her body, taking the sight of her in. “What happened?”

“Had a fight—” Amanda mumbled, drying her eyes, smearing a line of black over the back of her hand. She wiped her fingers under her prickling eyes, too.

“We gathered that.”

She almost winced at the ‘we” but tried to keep her face neutral. Even imagining the whispers and looks behind her back made her guts twist into knots, so she tried not to do that. Beth was staring at her cleavage and the stains all over her dress. “Are—those honey buns?” the teenager asked, pointing at the remnants of crumbles, honey, cinnamon and glazed sugar.

Amanda flushed, bowing her head. She didn’t even want to think on that now—the way he ate the sweet off her skin, making her feel—she didn’t know—she thought she really had gone to another place.

“It looks like you didn’t only fight—” Beth commented slowly.

Trying to shrug, she felt tired and angry. Angry at herself for leaving the condoms in the room. Angry at Rick—for—for, she didn’t know why she was upset with him, honestly. Feeling him felt so good, having him doing that stuff with his tongue and lips, making her gently ride over his cock. It felt so good, desire burning inside her, but when he started going inside her, she—she just got scared again.

Maybe things would really have been different if they had a condom. She wouldn’t have reacted that way, but the thought of having sex with him again without protection was scary. She couldn’t do it. She just panicked!

And she finally made Rick snap, too. _I’m a man. Forty years old. How long do you expect me to behave like I’m thirteen?_ The question popped in her mind again as she almost started crying again. She wondered if Rick would finally call it quits this time.

Amanda wasn’t the only woman in the world. In the prison, things had been different. Rick was still mourning back then, but he’d gotten over that phase, with her help or not, but he’d gotten over that phase. Perhaps he would just decide to move on now, thinking they were wrong for each other. Wasn’t that the exact way Amanda had tried to end things before?

Despite his own mixed up shit, Rick was still a family man at his core. He wasn’t like her. He really married because of that, not of a surprise pregnancy as Amanda had sometimes suspected. No. Like he said, Rick had just wanted to have a family. He wouldn’t keep doing this—whatever the shit Amanda was doing continuously. Burn her soul if she knew.

Her thoughts became so bleak, she just wanted to hide herself under the covers and cry… but as if Beth recognized her body language as she drew her knees up over her chest, the teenage girl suddenly pulled the covers from her, leaving the kitty on the bed.

“Up. Go take a shower, clean yourself—” Beth ordered her firmly. “You’re ruining the sheets.”

Amanda made a noise, half a laughter, half a sob. “I wanna sleep.”

“No. You go take a bath first, take off the makeup, then come back here. I’m gonna make you that sweet herbal tea of yours, then you can sleep.” Even the herbal beverage reminded her of Rick, the way he had tried to please her, make her happy, and she’d just accused him of trying to get into her pants in return.

“I’m sure you can talk over whatever it was that you fought about tonight in the morning—” Beth said. “This isn’t the first time you had a fight, Amanda.”

She tried to tell herself Beth was right. They had come back from worse stuff. A lot of worse stuff. They’d survived the woods. They certainly could find common ground. Rick might sulk and send her a few glares, but they would talk over it. They always did.

Straightening up, she slid off the bed. Behaving like a mess wasn’t going to solve anything. Beth was right. They left the room together, Beth returning downstairs as Amanda headed to the bathroom.

She tried not to gaze in the mirror, to not see herself, but it was a failed attempt. Her eyes darted towards her reflection. God. She really looked like a mess, but at least before crying, her face wouldn’t have been like this when she came back to the house. Small mercies. Her eyes caught the hickeys over her cleavage, her neck, her lips swollen with kisses.

What was done, was done. She would just hide them with concealer as best they could. Taking a quick shower, she washed the sticky remains off her body and slipped back in her room, drying her hair with the towel. She slipped into pajamas this time, wondering if Rick heard the noises she made. Would he want to check on her?

When the door opened a few minutes later, her heart started galloping, but her shoulders almost sagged when sunshine hair appeared behind her. Beth walked in, holding a big mug with one hand. The kitty cat was tucked in the crook of her other elbow. The sweet aromas filled the air immediately.

Amanda took the hot beverage in her hands and rested her back against the headrest. The baby tabby jumped in her lap this time as Beth sat next to her in silence. Amanda sipped from the hot beverage slowly as her hands gently stroked the kitten’s head. The baby started purring softly as Amanda started feeling a bit better. Stroking the baby kitten reminded her how it felt stroking Rick idly, but she tried to force her thoughts from that. Half an hour later, Beth changed into her pajamas, too, and they both slipped under the covers.

Amanda closed her eyes and turned on her side facing the door, tucking the baby kitten in her arms as Beth turned to the other side. She stared at the door, still stroking the soft furball beneath her hands, half listening to Beth’s breaths evening out as she fell into slumber, half listening to hear footsteps.

She heard nothing.

Tomorrow, she told herself. They would talk tomorrow.

Amanda would get up and make him those pancakes he wanted, with honey and cinnamon, and then they would talk. She wasn’t exactly sure what she could say, as she still didn’t know a damn thing, but they would talk. Perhaps she could just say that. Rick always wanted her to talk to him, to open up to him. He would understand.

She slowly slid into the darkness before the sunlight prickled against her eyelids again. Blinking against the rising sun, she slipped out of the bed silently, leaving the baby tabby with Beth in the bed and went downstairs. Rick would start making his morning patrol soon. He would really be shocked when he saw her…showing an effort.

Quickly, she assembled the mix for pancakes with the ingredients available. They had no eggs, so she used applesauce they prepared from the apple trees. Instead of fresh milk, she mixed up milk powder with water. Without any butter or vegetable oil to use, she opted for a little coconut oil, adding everything to the flour, cinnamon, and baking soda, with a splash of vinegar to activate the baking soda. She had no idea how they all were going to combine, but when she started cooking them in the pan, it didn’t smell that bad. In fact, it smelled rather good. She stacked them on a plate, dribbled honey over them and placed the plate on the counter right at the moment she heard heavy, yet careful, footsteps.

Amanda could recognize the sounds Rick’s cowboy boots made from anywhere, so bowing her head she smiled to herself, her heartbeat hastening again. She tucked a loose end of her hair back over her ear, waiting for him.

The footsteps stopped at the threshold. Amanda lifted her head as Rick stared at the plate, his face still having that stern, curt expression, his jaw set. He didn’t look like he caught even a second of sleep, his eyes rimmed red, his brows still pinched. And he was still staring at the pancakes. “Uh—good morning,” she mumbled quietly.

Rick crossed to the door with only with a dismissive nod. She felt something drop heavily in her stomach. He walked to the cabinet, got a glass, and poured himself a glass of water.

“I—I made pancakes.”

His head tossed back, Rick drank the water, and then set the empty glass down on the counter silently.

“I made it for you—” she whispered.

His eyes darted towards her as he brought the glass to the dishwasher, and pulling the door open, he placed it in the top rack. He closed the door, his movement so curt and tense. He straightened back up. “I’m not hungry.”

Amanda flinched back worse than the thud of the door in her face last night. Her eyes filled with tears as she grabbed the stool’s back, her fingers tightening. Rick opened a drawer and fished out a few black plastic garbage bags from inside and tucked them into his back pocket. He then started walking out.

“Rick—” Amanda called out to his back. He stopped and turned aside, waiting for her to speak again. “Can—can we talk?” she whispered, forcing herself to speak.

His eyes, those stern, curt blue eyes, still riveted on hers, Rick shook his head. “I don’t want to talk right now,” he said before he left her alone with his pancakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh, a nigt to remember, eh? Sorry, hehe.
> 
> Feel free to get angry at them, they totally deserve it :) But really, I don't put warning tags for naught. I added that little tag for dsyfunctional relationships for a reason. Amanda and Rick are gonna make a textbook case for it.  
> This is the end of the first arc of the story, as things will get more heated in the second one.  
> Like always, I would very like to hear what you think. Thanks.  
> Ciaociao.


	11. 'Do you want to know her better?'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As both Amanda and Rick plunge themselves into work following their disastrous date, Rick decides that they should get to know the townspeople better after a talk with Beatrice Reese.

Leaving the pancakes scented kitchen, Rick stepped out on the porch. He was still upset, still hurt, still weary, and a bit surprised too. The breakfast was unexpected, but Rick shook his head as the door closed behind him.

Did she really think that he would just sit and eat her pancakes like nothing like had happened? Well, she had also asked if they could _talk_ , not hiding herself off somewhere, becoming lost like she usually did. Rick knew her attempt to make up was earnest. He didn’t doubt that. But still, he didn’t want to talk right now.

Instead, he turned his mind to things he needed to focus on. He had things to do, a hell of a lot of things. He didn’t get the chance to talk with Glenn yesterday after his discussion with Deanna. He needed to find the younger man and ask him what he thought about Deanna’s job assignment. Having Glenn as his partner didn’t really sound like a bad idea to him, especially now, after the last fight with Amanda.

She’d been right. With the way they interacted, they would never, ever have been able to be partners. They couldn’t work together. Hell, it didn’t even seem like they could date.

They’d left the place last night looking like shit. He’d better go and clean up a bit. He’d brought garbage bags to dispose of the food, and the small wagon he’d used last night to bring cushions and rugs was still inside the building.

The rest Rick was going to deal with later. He needed to start mapping out the grounds properly and check all the weak points for security. Yesterday he’d found a little kitten between a spot in the walls. If they weren’t careful, the next time they would find something else. Then he needed to think on contingency plans, evacuation routes, and safe houses. They had to be prepared, even do a couple of drills. Rick needed to see how the townspeople would carry themselves under duress.

Four days finished, Rick wasn’t still impressed.

They had to make another meeting and discuss plans and shifts. He wanted his own people up in the bell tower as soon as possible. Yesterday Sasha had checked the nest. Today they would start having shifts. Then patrols. Watches needed to patrol the perimeters every hour, not just sitting idly. Alexandria was a big place. They would have other posts in different parts of the grounds, in pairs, one patrolling, the other staying at their post. With their additional population, they would make the numbers. They had people. Seventy-one people.

Then they had to start outside patrols, checking the outer perimeters, and most importantly, set up safe houses and rendezvous spots. He was _not_ going to have another prison disaster, running around in the woods like headless chickens. Never again.

Yeah, Rick had a lot of stuff to do, and a teenager and a baby to take care of in the meantime. He didn’t need time to deal with Amanda’s shit right now. Later they would talk. Not now.

Her expression when he told her he wasn’t hungry came to his mind, the way her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but Rick pushed it away forcefully, feeling frustration coming back to him.

Goddammit! They could’ve been laying in each other’s arms right now instead of this! Enjoying each other’s company, waking up slowly, then have sex again against those pillows! He could’ve made her feel good, could make her come all over his mouth right now!

Was being with him really that frightening that she just wouldn’t let herself go? Had to make sure to find herself a backup plan? Was he _really_ that repulsive to her? He knew he was kind of an asshole, but Amanda knew him. She’d accepted him. That night after they were back from the woods, when she held him tightly, resting her head at his back, Rick had felt it, felt her acceptance, felt her admitting all of him; the good, the bad, the ugly.

Why was she running away from him now?

His jaw settled further as Rick kept walking to the maintenance warehouse. Perhaps that was why she always questioned them. Because she wasn’t sure of them as much as Rick was. Amanda was trying to deal with her feelings, with the intimacy they had, but this _hurt_. Hurt more than Rick thought it would. The fear was there, too, whether she would start questioning it again. Rick seriously didn’t want to hear that question ever, ever again.

_Do you want us to stop?_

No. They’d crossed that line, and it was too late to turn back now. They had to keep going ahead. Amanda had to understand that. Though, Rick wasn’t sure how he was going to do it. On his first real try, he got accused of just trying to get into her pants.

The anger flared in him again, remembering her words. Did she really think that he just wanted to have sex? That she was just a warm body to satisfy a need? If he wanted to get off, he would go jerk off, or better yet, go find someone else to fuck. They had people now, seventy-one people. Someone at least would be…interested in him. Beatrice Reese was already flirting with him whenever she saw him. But he didn’t want any other woman. He didn’t want to only get off.

Rick wanted Amanda. He wanted to climax with her. He wanted to have sex with her, share that moment together, hold her hand while doing it, stare at her eyes, let her see it—feel it—how much she meant for him.

Maybe she just didn’t…feel like he did?

The notion set his mood even lower, even though he told himself no. If she didn’t, she would have just washed her hands of him. She was _still_ staying with him. She wouldn’t have slept in his arms the way she did if she didn’t feel the same way!

Anger incited in him further with little suspicious words in his mind and the hurt they brought on him, but Rick pushed all of them away.

He had no time for this. He had things to do. A hell of a lot of things.

Rick quickened his pace and yanked off the padlock of the building, banging the heavy metal door behind his back. It made even a better, louder metallic clank than the door of the master bedroom. Rick felt satisfied. He really wanted to break something, beat the hell out of some crap.

Hmm, perhaps he should just go out and kill a few walkers. Instead, he headed towards the management office. When he opened the door and walked inside, Rick was hit by a flood of different smells, still poignant in the stale air. It was a mix of food remains; saffron, meat, honey, and cinnamon all swarmed together. Underneath all of that, that distinctive smell of sex was still recognizable. No sex happened here last night, but by judging how it looked, no one would have believed it.

The cushions were half scattered beside the low table Rick had made, the crumbled honey buns scattered over them and over the floor. All of it brought back memories, the way they could’ve been right now, as Rick gazed at the pillows. He could just eat his breakfast over her buns now!

He almost let out a seething growl, looking at the sweet pastries, remembering the pancakes, and yanked the plastic garbage bags out of his back pockets. Even thinking of it now was making him angrier, for what Rick wasn’t sure of, so he just focused on tidying the room. Shaking his arms to open one of the bags, pulling its edges apart, Rick halted momentarily as his eyes caught something, the white lace, just beside the pillows on the floor. Amanda’s bra. She’d forgotten to put it on last night after Rick threw her clothes at her.

Kneeling, Rick picked it up. He could still feel the sticky golden remnants on the lace under his fingers, could smell the cinnamon. With a frustrated sigh, Rick folded the delicate underwear and stuffed it inside his front pocket. It was a full lace thing without any underwire, so it fit in his pocket easily. Just having it there just was making another kind of frustration stir in him again, but Rick dutifully kept it away from himself.

Things… He had things to do…

Opening the plastic bag, Rick started eyeing the food. Throwing away food had become such an impossible concept for them, especially as he smelled the casserole. The nights were chilly enough now, and the mornings cold enough to keep cooked food a few hours intact, even with meat. More than once they’d gotten food poisoning, so Rick was extra careful now, but nothing smelled bad yet.

He covered the casserole dish with its lid and placed it down in the plastic bag. The flat breads had become stale in the open air, but were still edible. Rick wrapped them inside a napkin and put it inside the bag, too. Next, he eyed the glazed sweets. They still smelled so good, so like Amanda, Rick reached out to take one. If he couldn’t eat her this morning, then he could at least eat her honey buns...

The main door closed with a metallic thud outside. Dropping the pastry down on the plate, Rick jerked up to his feet, his hand already at his hip. He trotted in the narrow space beside the pillows and the low table and opened the door. Crossing the open spacious workshop, he stood still.

Amanda was there, heading towards the office. She stopped upon noticing him, her eyes finding his. She looked like a cold marble again, her face stark, bare of any emotion, her green eyes devout of any warmness, icy. She’d returned to her Ice Queen persona, and seeing it made Rick’s chest ache, but he stood there watching her as she did the same.

“I came to tidy up the room—” she stated in an icy tone, starting walking away.

Rick nodded. “Me too.”

She gave a half jerk of her head that Rick wasn’t sure what it meant and resumed walking again towards the management office. “I got it,” Rick told her as she bypassed him.

Instead of an answer, she only tossed him a terse glance and continued walking. Rick followed her, his jaw squaring. He knew he was an asshole this morning, but he was the one who had reason to be offended.

Yet, she was walking ahead of him now as if Rick had kicked some puppies. She stepped into the management room and momentarily halted, probably having the same sense of deja vu Rick had experienced upon entering the room. Her eyes wandered over the pillows, then over the table. She eyed the plastic bags, then her inquisitive eyes started searching, like she was looking for something.

She slowly padded towards the pillows and rummaged through them. Kneeling, her hands slipped in between the pillows, her head bowed. Rick came back to the table and started tidying up again, gazing around dubiously. Her eyebrows pinched deeper as she started lifting up pillows, throwing them aside. Rick realized what she was looking for.

Amanda hadn’t only come to tidy up the room. She had come to retrieve her bra she’d forgotten last night. The thing inside his pocket almost burned him as he felt like a pervert who stole women’s underwear. He couldn’t leave her things there. Even the thought of anyone finding it was enough to make his teeth grit, but giving it back to her now seemed…disturbing.

She must feel the same way, as she started getting panicked. “I—I forgot my bra last night—” Her tone was urgent now as she still rummaged on her hands and knees through the scattered pillows and the corner where they had gotten naked.

Rick watched her, bewildered, her round small ass in her combat pants tilted up in the air just over to his direction, and despite everything Rick still found himself hardening again. “Did you see it?” she questioned, craning her neck aside to give him a look.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah—” he accepted, his hand fishing out the tiny lace garment. “Found it.”

Looking at him with her head twisted back, Amanda raised an eyebrow, getting to her feet. Her expression was cold again, the urgency leaving her. She clawed it off his fingers, glaring at him. “Good thing that I kept my panties on, eh?” she prickled.

“Yeah, your virtue still is intact, thank god,” Rick replied crisply.

Her eyes flared with a green fire, Amanda glowered at him. “Clean up your mess yourself—” she bit off before she turned to walk out.

Rick growled after her but followed her advice and resumed his cleaning. He needed to concentrate on something, because a part of him was already thinking of catching up to her and kissing her. Her cattiness and his frustration combined together was doing nothing good to him.

He quickly tidied the room and loaded the rest of the food, pillows, rugs, and the crudely assembled low table with platters and tablecloths on the wagon and started dragging it back to the house. He left the wagon in the garage and washed his hands beside the little tap for gardening at the wall.

Wiping his wet hands dry on his jeans, Rick walked into the house. He was getting hungry. He couldn’t eat honey buns after Amanda had left. The taste of them would just make his temper worse. Even looking at the sweet pastries was making him grit teeth. Rick headed for the kitchen to fix himself a quick bowl of oatmeal.

The others were inside, having breakfast. Amanda was holding her baby tabby in her arms, trying to feed her with powdered milk with one of Judith’s smaller baby feeders. The sight made his temper deflate suddenly, watching her smile down as she delicately held the baby tabby in her hands.

The pang in his chest hurt a bit further. Pancakes, Rick thought the next second. He should eat his pancakes. He was cranky out of bitterness this morning, but she’d prepared for them. He wandered his gaze around the kitchen, trying to find them, but there were no pancakes.

Had they eaten all of them? The others looked like they’d finished breakfast, and Rick couldn’t see any traces of pancakes anywhere. His eyes circled around the kitchen again before he turned to Amanda. “Where are the pancakes?” he asked. “Are they gone?”

The notion disturbed him suddenly. They were _his_.

When Amanda lifted her head up at him, the gentle smile over her face had vanished completely, instead only having that icy glower as she stared at him. “We ate them all,” she stated briskly. “Lost your chance.”

Rick’s glare turned into a glower as well as he stared back at her. A silence fell in the kitchen as the murmurs of small talk suddenly quietened with their…confrontation. After giving her a last chilly look, Rick turned on his heel to leave the house, but then he heard the door opening outside, and a chirpy voice echoed in the hallway.

“Sheriff—hello!” Beatrice’s energetic voice carried over them as Rick twisted aside to look down the corridor. Clad in her sports attire, the young woman was walking towards him. “Oh, Rick, I was looking for you. The door was open.” She stopped at the threshold and looked inside as everyone stared at her.

She flicked her eyes at Rick, a small smile crossing over her lips. “Was I interrupting something?” she asked, sensing the tense air in the room. Amanda scowled even worse, almost scoffing. Beatrice turned to her. 

“No—” Rick answered tersely, turning his own gaze from Amanda to the younger woman. “What is it? Why are you looking for me?”

“I just left the house to go running—” Beatrice began explaining. “And saw it. My sculptures in the garden. They’re broken. Like they’re smashed—” she said. “There was no wind last night,” she went on. “Maybe it’s nothing, but can you come and look at it?”

This time Amanda really scoffed.

“Yeah, sure,” Rick replied, tossing her another terse look before he tilted his head at the other woman. “Let’s go.”

As he stepped beside her, Rick still could feel Amanda’s glare on him. “I didn’t hear anything last night, but you know, it feels weird—” Beatrice went on as they walked down the hallway, her voice a bit baffled compared to her usually chirping tones.

“Yeah—” Rick mumbled absently, opening the door for her. He flicked a look back toward the kitchen and saw Amanda entering the living room, carrying her baby tabby in her arms, her eyes still glowering at him.

Walking out, Rick pointedly let the door close with a thud again. Uphill, they trekked over to the town’s bigger houses where the Reese sisters’ house stood next to Deanna’s. They had a larger garden with colorful flowers and grass. Beatrice led them to the tiny pathway through them that was paved with small cut cobblestones and made her way towards the backyard.

“I made them myself for Clarice,” the young woman remarked conversationally. “I used to go to classes before. Got a workshop here. Sometimes I paint too—” she went on. “Clarice wanted things for the garden, so—you know, big sister stuff—” She threw at him a big smile. “Got it covered for her.” She sighed, waving her hand over the garden, pointing at the broken pieces of sculptures among the grass and flowers.

Inside the scattered clutter of ceramic and plaster, Rick spied broken pieces of angel wings and horns. His eyes narrowed. 

“Angels and demons,” Beatrice explained with a sly smirk, trailing Rick’s narrowed eyes as his gaze fell on an unbroken small stature of a creature of both on the front side; a woman with angelic wings on one side, the other with horned wings. “Two sides of the same coin—” Her smirk turned a bit shy as she added, “Clarice hates gnomes.”

All things considered, the young woman wasn’t bad, just misguided, perhaps. In some ways, her quirky personality even reminded him of Beth’s, earlier Beth—before the woods.

The thought disturbed him in the ways it did Amanda. Rick pushed it away. “Are you sure they were broken last night?” Rick asked. The broken statues were in the backyard. The ones in the front side were still intact.

Beatrice shrugged. “I don’t know. I saw it this morning,” she repeated. “I went out on the porch before I went to bed but didn’t check the backyard.”

Rick nodded. “Is there someone you are at odds with?” Rick questioned further. Beatrice was friendly, but her airy personality sometimes could get…annoying. Especially in their uncertain times.

One of her sculpted eyebrows arched up. Rick gave her a look.

In answer, the woman shook her head with another shrug. “No. Everyone loves me—” she said with those airy tones, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

On their own, Rick found his lips jerking up a little. There was something…lightening in the young woman’s airy attitude, too, something contagious like Beth’s used to be. “Yeah—”

“Hmm mm.”

Rick paused for a second before he asked next; “Did anyone come by last night?”

Her eyes held a flirting glint this time as she looked back at Rick. “No.” She paused a second. “Clarice invited a few friends over for playing pool in the afternoon,” she went on, “but no one else. It was just me, Clarice, and Maria.”

Rick frowned a bit. “Who’s Maria?”

“Our housekeeper—” she replied with ease. “We came here together. She’s been with us for a long time. That tiramisu…” She gave another fleeting smile, turning her eyes away. “I admit, it was more of her doing than mine.”

Rick didn’t know what to say to that, that the Reese girls still had a _housekeeper_ , so he just gave a half of a nod. “Okay. I’ll keep an eye, but you be careful,” he warned. “Close your door at night and be attentive.” He shouldn’t need to tell them this, and it irked him he still had to.

But Beatrice just nodded again with another smile, this time even saucy, “Yes, sir.”

For a moment or so, Rick wondered why the hell the girl was trying to flirt with him. Beatrice was even younger than Amanda, probably in her late twenties. Rick wasn’t a young man, and the hardships of the last two years certainly took their toll on him. His lips weren’t easy to smile now, more prone to scowl. The attraction he felt for Amanda was something entirely different, an instant spark that ignited the moment they met, inspecting each other warily even after killing walkers together. But Amanda and Beatrice were as different as day and night. Beatrice wasn’t even his type, but the woman’s interest in him…well, it felt fishy.

The thought of the clueless girl having an ulterior motive was almost ridiculous, but Rick reminded himself everyone had an angle now. Perhaps Deanna had just put her up to this, spy on him in a…closer way. The old woman knew Amanda and he were together, but their relationship still wasn’t defined.

His jaw squared at the thought as Rick weighed the idea of whether Deanna would try to pull off something like this, and he didn’t like the answer he found. Just as he was about to leave the garden and do something more…productive with his time than hunting down broken statues, if that was real, of course, not just a lure to get him alone in her home, Pete Anderson suddenly appeared at the fringes of the front yard.

“Beatrice—” the town’s doctor called out in a placid voice. “Is there a problem?” His eyes shifted between her and Rick as the man’s expression soured.

Suddenly Beatrice’s expression soured, too. “No—” she answered in clipped tones for her as she took a step beside him. “Someone broke my statues last night. Rick’s handling it.”

Rick almost scowled worse. “I see—” the doctor slowly said, then turned and left without another word.

“I thought you said everyone loves you—” Rick commented, turning to the woman.

Beatrice, her cool expression shifting again, smiled at him big once more. “Oh yeah, everyone does. Pete is just…different.”

Rick cocked an eyebrow up.

The former socialite giggled. “Heh, you know we should throw a party and mingle together,” she commented. “You’re here like a week, and you _don’t_ even know the bridge club gossip.” She shook her head with a tsk playfully.

Rick looked at her, but couldn’t help but ask. “Bridge club? You have a bridge club?”

“Oh, we have all sorts of clubs!” she exclaimed. “Shelly loves playing bridge. So she set it up. Reg has his own gentlemen’s club of sorts, and Aiden and his pals have poker nights.” She paused and gave him a wicked grin. “Jessie started a book club a year ago. You know, if you need a good yawn, you can always try it.” A wink also accompanied the words.

Rick merely looked at her this time. Beatrice sighed with an exaggerated showy manner. “Pete and I,” she explained. “We used to date when I was in college.”

Processing the sudden information, Rick thought about it quickly, and almost shook his head. It didn’t fit. Ron was around Beth’s age; the math didn’t fit. Beatrice must be like twenty-eight at tops. “But Ron—”

“Jessie and Pete divorced before Ron started high school, then got married again a year prior to the outbreak,” the woman elaborated further, reading his mind. Beatrice let out another sigh. “Okay, allow me to fill you in. Pete had a house in Alexandria, too. We know each other from before. Our families were very well acquainted,” she continued. “His younger brother and I were playmates since kindergarten. We both went to Sidwell; you know the same circles.”

Rick realized what the former socialite meant. The blond doctor had the same air of the town itself, crème de la crème of their society. “Pete was my first crush, my first love,” Beatrice continued. The man was around Rick's age, so Rick could see it, the young woman developing a crush on her friend’s handsome older brother.

“They all used to make fun of me because of it, but then when I was in college, it suddenly happened. At first it was like my dreams came true,” she said with another laugh, but then a sigh followed. “But, well, you know, first loves… He was drinking heavily. That’s why Jessie divorced him before. Had family problems, _daddy issues_.”

Her tone suddenly got serious as Rick remembered the man’s drunken tones. “He isn’t a bad guy, but…a bit too overbearing. We broke up before I finished college. He got better after he remarried Jessie, though. She made him move out of the city, out of his circles, and they came here after.”

“He wouldn’t do this, right?” Rick asked, remembering the man’s hostile tone greeting them after their first real night in the town.

Beatrice shook her head, laughing. “Pete? Oh, no. That’s not his style. Rest assured, if he ever broke my statues out of spite, he would make sure I knew it was _him_ who did it.”

With a curt nod, Rick left her. He still made mental notes to keep an eye on both of them, but perhaps it was a dog or a cat, although the town didn’t look like they had animals other than the kitten Rick had found yesterday. Before he returned to the house, he also made a little detour, and crossing the wide street lined by trees, he dropped by Deanna’s house.

The door was opened at the first ring by the blonde psychologist. “Oh. Hi, Sheriff—” the woman greeted. Rick was still in his civilian clothes, the idea of putting on the uniform still not fitting him. Yesterday he’d put it inside the closet, and when he woke up, or just rather got up from the bed after a sleepless night, the last thing in his mind was clothes of any kind.

His hands had gone to his jeans as his eyes caught his white dress shirt draped over the sofa at the foot of the bed, where Rick had dropped it last night, sticky golden stains over his collar and his cuffs. The sight had soured his mood even further, waking up, almost made him throw away the damn thing across the room. His temper subsided because of the still sleeping Judith and Carl in the bed, but he still left the master bedroom with enough of that temper still intact. He didn’t get a wink of sleep last night after he stepped inside, slamming the door in her face, passed the night staring at the ceiling, listening to her take a shower in the bathroom at the opposite side of the hall.

Then Rick went downstairs, his nostrils catching the smells, and despite the pancakes, he still snapped.

_We ate them all. Lost your chance._

He almost gritted his teeth as Denise led him to the living area to ask for Deanna. The old woman came down a couple of minutes later. “Rick—” Deanna said. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”

“We need to talk about security in full details,” Rick stated without any pleasantries. He was tired of small talk and wanted to get on with business. “The shifts, the watches, the patrols,” he continued stiffly. “I want to start laying out the town’s grounds in full scale and define weak points and escape routes.”

Deanna nodded. “Okay. I’ll send word to Aiden.”

Rick frowned faintly, but restrained himself from making any further sign of annoyance. He had no desire to participate in anything with Aiden Monroe, but the older Monroe son was still the head of security. Rick wondered how the hierarchy between them was going to work, if it was truly ever going to work. Deanna seemed like she wanted to keep a controlling hand over her firstborn, too, separating the security and policing from each other, getting him a friendly partner as she preferred Rick focused more on the security.

Speaking of which, he still needed to talk to Glenn. Though the talks might have spread already. Nothing stayed hidden long in their lives now. Giving the older woman a jerk of head, Rick said before he headed back to the door, “We’ll come in an hour.”

When Rick finally returned to the house, he found Amanda resting against the corner of the beams of the porch. The baby kitten wasn’t with her this time, so she was alone, standing still propped against the length of the beam closest to her as she serenely watched him walking to the porch.

Their eyes drew to each other, and they kept their gaze locked as Rick slowly climbed up the steps. Her expression was closed off, but before Rick passed by her, he heard her voice.

“Took you pretty long to check out a few broken statues.” From the side, Rick could only see her profile now as she commented aloofly, still facing ahead. “Made you rescue her cat from up the tree, too?” Her voice was as dry and crisp as the fallen leaves on the streets.

“No—” he replied in the same way. “I only do that for you.”

Amanda scoffed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she did it herself,” she bit off, slanting him a look, twisting her head aside. “She seems rather interested in you. Why don’t you go ask her out?” she pushed even further, her obvious jealousy making her cattier. Rick turned to her, scowling, his own temper finding him again. “She looks like she wouldn’t mind tasting your honey buns.”

As his jaw squared more, Rick thought about repeating that he only did _that_ for her, but instead, he settled with glowering at her. She returned it. They glared at each other wordlessly for a full moment before Rick broke it.

“I called a meeting at Deanna’s house in an hour,” he informed her curtly, starting to move to the door again. “We need to discuss security.”

Inside he looked for Glenn and found him lying on the couch in the den, with a deadly stark expression. Rick thought they needed to be assigned to their jobs as a daily routine before they all started cracking up. Sitting idly wasn’t going to work.

“Hey—” he called out to Glenn, standing at the doorway. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Glenn sat up silently in response and rested his back against the two-seater couch. “You don’t—” he replied. His voice was still low, scratchy, sounding unused. “I heard about it.”

Nodding, Rick closed the little spare room’s door. “Yeah. Figured out you might.” He leaned against the door, watching the younger man as Glenn looked back at him. “So what do you say?” Rick prompted when Glenn stayed silent. “Do you want to?”

Glenn shrugged. “I don’t know—” he admitted. There was a pause between them again before Glenn continued. “I was thinking of going to D.C. with Abraham,” he finally replied. “M—Maggie would want me to.”

Rick shook his head. “Maggie would want you to go on, Glenn—” he replied. “Be with us, keep Beth safe.” He paused for a second. “Perhaps going to D.C. is a decision we have to reconsider.”

The more they spent time in Alexandria, the more risking it that way felt more…unnecessary. They still might go to check around for a supply run, to see…the bigger picture, but a mission on that scale for something they weren’t even sure if it would work?

No.

This place was what was important. Keeping it safe and secure. Alexandria was going to be their home. One way or another. That reminded him of the guns again, and Beatrice’s passing comment about the dinner party. “But either way, we can’t leave before we make sure Alexandria is safe.”

Glenn nodded.

“This place needs you, brother,” Rick said for the last. “ _We_ need you.”

There was no reply from the younger man this time, so with another small bob of his head, Rick left him alone to think it over.

# # #

After Rick stalked inside the house after their glare-match, Amanda decided it was time for her to get out. Rick probably was going to dawdle in the house until he left for the meeting, and Amanda had no desire to be in the same vicinity with him at the moment.

Even staying in with others after he’d left was bad, so Amanda had decided to take a bit of fresh air on the porch. It was nothing to do with her eyes trailing towards the damn woman’s house uphill and across from them. Or that she might catch a glimpse of them standing in the house’s garden if she angled herself and squinted…Nope. Nothing to do with _that_.

Rick became even more cross when he learned she gave the pancakes to the others. What did he expect her to do? Saved them for him, after he refused her like that? He ought to be glad that Amanda didn’t throw them in the trash can right away! The thought had crossed her mind, since the temptation was great. She almost did it, too, but there was no way she could waste food like that. So she’d given them to the kids. They’d been happy, at least!

If he wanted pancakes, he should go ask Beatrice. The woman didn’t look like she would mind it, either.

Her ire edging more heated, she scoffed under her breath, her eyes drawn again uphill. She knew her bitchiness was due only partly to the older Reese sister. The airhead girl’s flirty nature was only making it worse after last night. Though, perhaps, she might have to get used to…competition.

The idea made her scoff lowly again. She had to admit in the world they lived in, a man like Rick was a good catch for most women, a protective, providing family man. His savage side even made him a much better kind of choice. But he also still had some gentleness, knowing kindness better than violence. And he was a handsome man, too, even though he mostly looked like he was oblivious of that fact. Amanda had noticed him at first glance, felt a basic attraction at that first moment. Even _she_ kind of flirted with him in the woods.

Her mood soured further at the admission, and unnamed fears started spinning in the dark parts of her mind. Amanda chased them away. She didn’t need to torture herself more with…thoughts.

She needed to cool down, get herself some distance. Run.

Turning, she was glad to see Rick wasn’t in the hall, and quickly climbed down the steps. Beth and Carl were already gone to tour the town or doing whatever they did in the day since they came to Alexandria. Running around the track might give her a good excuse to look around, too.

She didn’t want to spy on Beth, but well, she didn’t mind knowing what the teenager was up to. Beth said she didn’t want to go to that school thing, said they had nothing to teach her, so Amanda had better start training classes, perhaps. Give them something else to focus on other than smokes and…other stuff.

The thought almost made her heave deeply, remembering herself from last night. Rick and she looked like they needed something else to focus on, too. She gulped, but also wondered if that was why Rick called a meeting today, to focus on something else other than their relationship. She better follow his example.

After she quickly changed her clothes and slipped into the sneakers she’d found, she left the house. She started circling the track, her pace getting faster, but she couldn’t see neither Beth nor Carl around anywhere. She _did_ see Beatrice, though, doing the same thing as she was. The younger woman caught her on her second lap, opening her mouth to greet her, but Amanda stared ahead, just picking up her speed and passing her, this time sending a clear message.

She had no desire to get friendly with a woman who didn’t mind getting a bit too flirty with a man who she must know had…a thing. That gossip must be heard all around town! They didn’t walk hand to hand in the town like high school sweethearts, but everyone must have clued in on it. When Amanda kind of flirted with Rick in the woods at their meeting, she had backed down after seeing his ring!

Aiden saw her as he left his house, and greeted her with a tip of his head, giving her a half mile. For a second or so, the temptation found her, to get back at Rick, make him jealous as well, but the next second, she drew away from the…alluring idea. She shouldn’t get that…petty. And, she didn’t want to flirt with Aiden Monroe. But she didn’t want to get the cold shoulder from Rick, either. It didn’t look like she was getting what she wanted these days.

And what the hell was it that she wanted anyways?

Amanda wanted Rick, yes, but she was also running away from him. She bowed her head, her eyes staring at her running feet, and she felt the same confusion in herself again, the same tangled mess. Closing her eyes, she tuned out all of her thoughts and just ran.

Before the hour finished, she headed back to the house. Rick wasn’t inside, so he’d already left, even though she didn’t see him outside. Beth and Carl were still missing, and she learned Aaron had come for Joan to bring her to the infirmary to meet with the doctor. Judith and Mika were with Carol as they played with the kitty.

Amanda was dripping wet with perspiration, breathing laboriously, her face flushed, her hair damp. She had run like a madwoman, but she didn’t care. It’d settled her down. She trekked towards Mika and Judith who was playing with the kitty on the rugs. “Hey—” she greeted them.

“Hey—” Carol replied. “Came back from running?”

Amanda nodded as Mika lifted her head. “Amanda—” the ten year old called out eagerly, stroking the baby tabby’s head. “What’s her name? Did you find her a name?”

She shook her head. “No.” She was still calling the baby cat in her mind as kitty. Her eyes drew to the baby, eyeing her light orange-golden fur with stripes and dots like all tabby cats. She stared at the kitten as Judith tried to hug the baby cat, crawling further. 

“How about Cinnamon?” she asked suddenly, a smile slowly curving up as Judith hugged the kitty. “She looks like honey and cinnamon, huh?”

“Like your pancakes this morning!” Mika cried out.

Amanda smiled further and sat down beside them, taking Judith into her lap and started playing with the kitty with the baby. “Do you like it, too, honey?” she whispered to the baby girl. “You’re Honey—” She threaded her fingers through the baby girl’s golden hair, smiling. “And she’s Cinnamon.”

She hung out with the kids for five minutes, during which Carol slipped away. Rick had left with Glenn, as the other man decided to take Deanna’s offer. Amanda felt good. A duty such as this was going to be good for the younger man. They all needed duties.

Amanda had already lost enough time with dates and dinners. She really needed to start planning her class and prepare her training field. She’d been planning a lot of stuff in the prison. An obstacle course, shooting lessons, knives, self-defense. Perhaps she should even ask Abraham’s help to set up more of a military boot camp. She could use that herself. She _needed_ _to_ practice. Get better. Be prepared. She remembered the boxing studio Beatrice had mentioned yesterday. Tomorrow she was going to hit the ring.

Leaving the kids playing with Cinnamon, Amanda went upstairs to take a quick shower and get ready for the meeting, her mind already taken with preparation and a fully planned day.

She quickly changed into her combat pants and another white shirt she’d found, but before she left, her gaze caught her backpack. She stood still in the room for a few second, she ran a hand over her face, breathing deeply. She went to the head of the bed, then returned, thoughts all swirling inside her… But I am upset because you don’t even give us a chance.

She paced in front of the bed, her eyes slanting looks at the backpack as Rick’s words echoed in her. She halted for a second, then before she changed her mind, she rushed to it, found the condom package inside and stuffed one into her back pocket.

When she arrived at Deanna’s house, they were all already inside the living area. Aiden had come with Nicholas, and Rick had brought Daryl and Glenn.

They were all seated around the long, oval-shaped dining room table. The psychologist was with Deanna’s husband, sitting at the other side of the table as Deanna’s both sides were taken by Rick and Aiden. Glenn was at Rick’s other side, with Daryl next to him as Nicholas sat beside Aiden. Next to Daryl, there was the psychologist, which left her the only empty space at the table: next to Nicholas.

Amanda walked to it as Rick scowled, his eyes sharpening, and his hands playing with the edge of papers in front of him. He didn’t like her sitting at the opposite side, Amanda could tell. She could also understand the sentiment. It felt…weird.

“Hello, officer—” Deanna greeted her as Amanda sat down gingerly, nodding. “So as everyone is here, I think we can start.”

Before anyone else spoke, Rick skidded the papers in front of him over to Deanna. “I prepared a shift plan for the watches, outlooks, and patrols,” he quickly started. “Four shifts per day, three different teams; main entrance, east side to the woods, and west side to the road. The river and hillside give us enough protection at the north and south.”

They’d talked about that briefly before as Amanda noticed it, too, but Rick seemed to have spent a bit more time on them than her, and the idea irked Amanda in a way she didn’t expect. When she’d wasted time on thinking about _them_ , Rick seemed like he’d used it to plan shifts and such.

“We can have a single person for the nest up in the bell tower, can even make it an eight-hour shift. Me, Sasha, Amanda—” He inclined his head at her briefly. “Even Abraham, I think, as long as he stays,” he went on, “but we pair up for the watches. One stays put, the other patrols every hour.”

“Every hour?” Nicholas almost exclaimed. “We don’t need to make a tour every single hour.”

“Yes, we do—” Rick encountered firmly. “I spotted a few weak points along the older masonry wall. Found a little kitten yesterday. Today we find a kitten, tomorrow we find a person. We need to define the weak points, reinforce them as best as we can, and check the grounds routinely.”

Nicholas tossed a glance at his own leader, but Aiden stayed silent, staring at Rick, gaze hard. “Teams—” Aiden said after a while, “How do we do it? Alexandria lies over more than _sixty_ acres. That’s gonna take a lot of manpower to rotate the shifts in pairs and still keep the daily routine in town,” he pointed out. “We can’t take shifts on the days we go out. And who’s going up?”

“You’ve got seventy-one people—” Rick reminded him. “We might take up on the shifts a bit more than the others because we also have to patrol outside—”

“Patrol outside—” Nicholas this time exclaimed and looked at Aiden directly. “Are you really serious about that?”

“I already told you,” Rick replied, deadly serious. “You need to control the perimeters outside and inside, unless one morning you want to wake up with a tank waiting outside your walls.”

“What?” Aiden echoed back as Amanda almost sighed.

The rest of them stayed silent.

“There are walkers, too,” Rick continued as if he didn’t make such a comment. “You need to keep your neighborhood clean. Walkers herd up. The more you let them wander around, the more they draw each other.” His gaze turned to Aiden as he addressed the younger man directly once more. “With our numbers combined, we could rotate the shifts. When Amanda starts her classes—” He jerked his head at her even though his eyes rested on Aiden, “you can assign more people to the shifts. The townspeople, they _all_ have to take the course and participate.”

After that Deanna spoke for the first time. “No. We don’t force anyone to enroll for the patrols if they don’t want to. That’s a volunteer job, not an obligation.”

Rick’s jaw squared worse. “You assigned Joan to be an apprentice of the doctor, forbid her to leave the town—” Rick reminded the woman firmly. “That wasn’t voluntary.”

Her face getting colder, Deanna shook her head. “That was different. And I thought I made myself clear on the subject.”

The way the older woman uttered the words almost made Amanda wince. The hypocrisy turned her stomach, but Amanda kept her face straight. At least Deanna wasn’t so much of a hypocrite as she regarded her own son in the same way as well.

Rick’s expression was cold as Deanna’s as he answered. “Learning how to survive, to protect what’s important _isn’t_ only an obligation, but our reality. If you want to live, you have to learn how to fight.”

“That might be true for the wilderness, but that’s _not_ what Alexandria is,” the old woman stated sternly, and Amanda heard the same stubbornness in her tone the way she heard in Rick’s. “You can start a mandatory course for basic survival skills for all adults, but Alexandria isn’t turning to a police state.”

Rick’s jaw was so set after the declarations, Amanda decided to interrupt before things turned awry. Twisting in her seat, she turned to Deanna. “If you give them a chance, people want to protect, want to fight for their loved ones—” she repeated Rick’s words to Lamson, her eyes flickering to him. “I’m sure there will be enough volunteers.”

The older woman nodded briskly. “That’s what I’m hoping for as well.”

After that Amanda’s eyes darted over to Rick, and they shared a brief glance. Underneath the stark intensity in his stern blue eyes, Amanda saw something else as deep seated as his irritation with the old, stubborn leader. Concern. Rick was getting worried.

“We need to organize a gathering,” he suddenly stated, as firm as informing them that they all needed to learn how to fight. “A dinner party, most likely. I saw Beatrice today.” Amanda tried not to scowl at the words, she really, really did. What the hell was he talking about?

“She said we should mingle together—” Amanda shot him another glare, the worries in her mind taken over once again by personal life. “She was right,” Rick continued. “ _You_ were right. We need a smooth transition between us. And the best way to achieve that is to get to know each other better.”

Amanda narrowed her eyes further, hearing the words, but Deanna seemed pleased. “Yeah, that’s a good thought—” the old woman nodded slowly in agreement. “I’ll talk with Beatrice. Planning dinner parties is her specialty.”

It was almost enough to make Amanda grit her teeth. They left the house a half hour later, after going over Rick’s shift plans for the week. He also started talking about flower beds and stuff, but by that time, Amanda had half zoned him out, a part of her mind still processing Rick’s request…

Rick Grimes wanted a damn party. _To get to know them better._ She wondered if there was someone he particularly wanted to get to know better. She thought he wanted to know _her_ better! Not someone else!

They walked to the house. Before he slipped inside with the rest of them, Amanda, clawing at his forearm, stopped him. Rick turned to her at the doorway.

The eyes looking at her were still stern. He was _still_ pissed at her. Good. Amanda was pissed, too.

“What was that?” She pushed him away from the screen door so the others couldn’t see them. “The party thing—” she added when Rick gave her an arched eyebrow. “ _Do_ you want to know Beatrice better?” she lashed out in a hiss, her nails digging into his skin.

Rick dipped his head and looked at his forearm, then lifted his head up at her. “You’re really a jealous woman, Amanda,” he told her with a smirk.

She fucking wanted to wipe it off his face. “Don’t—”

“I don’t care about parties,” he cut her off. “I need a distraction.”

“For what?”

“For breaking into armory.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe, now, our new challenge is the Dinner Party :) I just couldn't let it go, and Rick being manipulative, sly, and sleek is my favorite, and also making Amanda jealous indirectly in the meanwhile. Multitasking guy ;)
> 
> I'm having great fun with Reese sisters. As I based Clarice from Carla from Elite, Beatrice is totally based on Alicia Silverstone's character from Clueless, haha, because why not? She's just an older, 28 years old version of her. So, she needed to have her housekeeper/nanny together, too, hehe. I'm making a new version of Pete Anderson, and things are very...complicated over there, too.
> 
> And Cinnamon! The kitty originally was going to stay as Kitty for a long time, as I was also inspired by Breakfast at Tiffany's and Amanda's issues with attachment, but then I thouhgt of 'Cinnamon' and it just felt...right.
> 
> I originally wrote this chapter as a whole block of one, but it became like 17k words, so had to divide it in two. I'll try to upload the second one asap. (Though, I still haven't started editting it yet) then we'll have the dinner party, yay! :D  
> Cheers.


	12. 'Gotta earn my keep'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Amanda and Rick continue with their newly duties, contemplating their relationship before the dinner party that Rick has plotted to get into the armory.

After their little confrontation on the porch, Rick took his first shift at the top of the bell tower, both to try to cool off and to give the others a little bit of time. He wanted to clear his head, too, and _think_. So Rick just went up, stared at what lay ahead of them, and each time his eyes drifted towards his forearm, towards the faint marks Amanda’s nails had made when she got jealous, Rick snapped them up again. He couldn’t think on _that_ now.

Rick had hoped things would get a bit clearer up on the heights, but no such luck. He could see the lands stretching ahead of them for miles, the gentle hill at the north, the river at the south, the surrounding woods at the east, and glimpses of deserted urban life at the west. Everything was in his clear line of sight. He couldn’t even see more than a few wandering walkers around, but Rick still felt as…tangled as ever.

Though one thing was still certain in him; Rick needed guns. They couldn’t rely on Deanna’s somewhat…fickle ethics and conscience. The old woman was as stubborn as Rick was in her outdated world views. If things went south with her, he wanted to be sure they could overcome it. He wasn’t going to lose Alexandria. The town was going to be their home, one way or another.

Turning aside, Rick watched the town, thinking of the expansion plans Deanna had started to draw. So much, they had so much to work on. His eyes swept the wall and the grounds. He’d divided the grounds in three grids, but perhaps he should’ve made a fourth, too. But that also would mean more patrolling, and arranging shifts was already going to be hard as it was.

He hadn’t wanted to admit to Aiden, but yes, it was going to be hard. But it was necessary. They did what they had to do. It probably was going to mean some of them were going to spend a day with only a few hours of sleep, but Rick was fine with that. He didn’t sleep much anyways, so he better put his awake times to a better use than staring at the ceiling.

Rick made a move to twist back to look towards the outside, but before he did, his eyes caught Amanda making a tour around the town. She was alone, neither with the kids or Beth, so he realized that wasn’t just a…stroll. No. Her body posture was too uptight for that, too inspective. Even from up in the heights, she looked to be in her cool, no-nonsense cop attitude. Why, Rick wondered, something itching in him again, seeing her like that.

His eyes darted down to his right forearm and under his rolled up cuffs, Rick spied the faint nail marks. The turmoil of his own feelings was right there again, just like always whenever his attention snapped away. The turbulence was always there; weariness, hurt, anger, arousal, all tangled together.

He was still angry at her for last night, but now he was aroused, too. She got jealous, forgetting their fight, forgetting how she kept herself distant from him, pulling out her claws, just because another woman showed him a bit of interest. But he was also weary, because she thought so little of him. And damn, he was frustrated at the same time, still wanting her like he’d never wanted anyone—wanting her madly.

Stopping the thought, Rick focused on the walkers outside the walls. That—that was the stuff he should think on now. Having a bird’s-eye view made another thing clear as well. Walkers. There were so few of them outside the town’s walls. He couldn’t see much of the urban side of the region, but the surrounding woods seemed too sterile for a community of Alexandria’s scale.

The town wasn’t so foolish that they made a lot of noise, but the dead always somehow got drawn to the living. The scents, the clamor of life attracted them. That was the only inclination they were left with, and they followed that basic instinct like starved, ravenous feral dogs. He couldn’t see anything to get worried about, but that gut feeling in the pit of his stomach was certain, too. 

Rick didn’t like this. He didn’t know what that was, but he didn’t like it. They should be extra careful with the outside patrols. Perhaps some group, a bigger, better equipped group was doing the very same thing Rick planned to do. Sweeping the neighborhood clean and keeping it attended. Encountering another Woodbury was the last thing Rick needed right now. The clash between them would be inevitable.

He passed the eight hour shift up in the nest, watching, thinking, making lists, drawing plans in his mind, everything swirling in his mind at the speed of light as he surveyed the grounds like a hawk.

Amanda disappeared after an hour, and Rick saw Carl and Beth making a tour with their new friends. Father Gabriel ventured out to the church. Joan went to the infirmary. Amanda and Carol came out a few hours later, taking Mika and Judith to the daycare’s kindergarten. Abraham joined the construction team as they worked on the east part of the wall with Deanna’s husband and his right hand man. Aiden joined them, as Amanda took a shift at the gate with Nicholas.

Her gun was tucked in her holster, and her pinched expression looked like it eased off slightly because of that as she stood still at the main gate. Nicholas was atop of the platform, and they didn’t talk during the shift.

As evening beckoned, Sasha came up to take the tower post. “Hey—” the dark-skinned woman greeted him, easing off her sniper rifle over the balcony’s wall. “Spencer volunteered for the midnight shift—” she said. “This one is mine.”

Rick nodded. He would feel better if Sasha actually took the midnight shift, but perhaps the woman wanted to spend time with Bob. Although she had a weary look, instead of excited. Rick wondered if they had a fight, too, but didn’t ask. 

They needed to talk about guns, make a detailed plan on how to get into the armory. His idea was to slip out of the party when everyone was having a good time and infiltrate the house that was set up as the armory. It was just beside the community center, a sort of two-winged warehouse the town had for its supplies in the early days. The military had set up half of it as an armory with locked drawers and cabinets, and the other half was the pantry. It was the only spot in the town aside from the main gate that Aiden Monroe made sure to always post a guard out front.

Before he took the curve to their neighborhood, Abraham found him, coming down from the construction site. “Hey, Sheriff?” the former sergeant called out.

Rick turned and threw an irritated look at the man. He wasn’t in the mood right now. Not even close. The eight hour shift alone up in the heights with the chilly wind biting at his face didn’t do wonders to his temper. He stared at the man silently, waiting for him to speak. 

“I heard you had a talk with Deanna this morning.”

He dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement. “Yeah.”

“Did you talk about the mission to D.C?”

“No—” Rick replied stiffly. “We talked about the security, shifts, and patrols.” He gave the other man another look. “I added you in for a few, too.”

“Yeah—” Abraham nodded absently. “How about that. When will we leave?” he asked, sounding exasperated. “The clock is thinking.”

Rick scowled. “I’ve been thinking on that. Maybe we scout our whereabouts first. I was up there today—” He cocked his head at the bell tower. “The area surrounding the town is too calm. I don’t like it. We shouldn’t dive into something we don’t know.”

He had been already having second thoughts about going to D.C, but after what he saw up in the nest, his concern had become greater.

Reading him, Abraham’s massive red eyebrows knitted. “You’re getting cold feet.”

“I don’t take risks,” Rick replied. “Either way, the town isn’t secure yet, and Deanna asked you to wait for the other supply team—” he remarked with the same stiffness, foisting the blame on Deanna. He had no desire to get into _that_ with Abraham Ford again. Let Deanna deal with it.

With a curt nod, Rick left the former sergeant and headed back to the house. Minus Amanda, who was still on the watch at the gate, everyone was gathered inside the living areas.

Rick sat with Judith on the blankets on the rugs beside Mika as delicious smells came from the kitchen. Beth walked into the room, holding up the baby tabby in the crook of her elbow. From his lap Judith bobbled up, getting excited as she spotted the kitten with Beth. He smiled at his baby girl, dipping his head.

Beth sat down in front of them and placed the kitten down as Judith rolled herself off him and crawled over to her. Beth smiled, too, softly. “Judy likes her—”

He nodded, eyes still on the babies.

Mika turned and craned her head up to look where Carol was settled in the armchair in the alcove beside the floor length window. “Carol—” she called out, “Can Cinnamon eat from what you cooked?”

Rick’s head snapped up. He looked up at Beth questionably as the teenager stayed silently.

“A bit,” Carol replied. “We’re gonna mince the meat with watered powdered milk to do a mush. We can feed her that.”

Mika turned back to Judith, nodding.

“Cinnamon?” Rick repeated to Beth, trying to keep his voice cool and clear.

“Hmm mm—” Beth hummed, stroking the baby tabby with Judith. “Amanda named it today.”

“It’s because of her cinnamon stripes, Mr. Grimes—” Mika interjected eagerly. “Isn’t she like that?”

Rick stared at the kitten, something twisting in his guts. The outside door opened and a few seconds later, Amanda appeared in the doorway. He slanted a look at her as she stared ahead while walking in. Her expression was still stoic, even though her face was flushed with the chill of outside. Rick had felt the cold bite up in the nest even worse, but his growing stubble had protected him from the bite, whereas Amanda’s fair skin had caught the worst of it. Looking down at them, her eyes lingered on Judy and the kitten, she flopped herself down on the couch, staunchly ignoring him.

Silence befell them as everyone fell silent, as if sensing the strain between them. Even Daryl was in the living room now, sitting on the floor beside the foot of Carol’s armchair, on the opposite side of Joan.

It was Mika who broke it again. “Carol—” the little girl turned to look at her, still caressing Cinnamon. “Can we watch a movie?” she asked imploringly. “You said last night we can do it tonight.”

Rick’s eyes were drawn to the TV set. It was a larger one than the master bedroom had, a 55-inch flat screen. The home theater system was set up around it, the speakers distributed to the four sides of the room.

“After supper—” Carol answered and tilted her head at her. “Go choose a movie.” She turned to them as Mika scurried to the entertainment center below the TV where the DVDs were stored on. “Supper is ready. Are we ready to eat?” Carol asked.

They all nodded absently, but they all dawdled. In broad daylight, they could better pretend things were still the same as in the woods or in the prison, but things were different at night. The danger was always present at the front of their minds, it always was, but even in the prison nights weren’t like this. They didn’t have a home theater in the prison, for one thing.

Before they headed to the kitchen, Amanda turned to the staircase. “You go ahead. I’m taking a shower first.”

Rick’s jaw squared. She didn’t want to be in his company eating supper. He sent her a glare, which she ignored again. His eyes moved to her neck pointedly, where his own marks from last night were faintly visible on her weather reddened skin. Most of them were hidden under the collar of her shirt that she buttoned up to her neck dutifully, but sensing his gaze, Amanda quickly swept around and stormed off upstairs.

After supper, Rick gathered them in the small den for the talk as Carl and Beth went with Mika to choose a movie to watch. Glenn took the couch with Carol, as Amanda and Joan settled on the folding chairs by the round little table. Rick stood beside the table, while Daryl stood beside the floor length window at the other side of the table.

“We don’t include the others?” Carol asked first after Rick quickly went over the plan.

Rick shook his head. “No. We break it to Sasha later, but keep it between us right now. I saw Abraham today—” he continued. “He wanted to know what we talked about with Deanna. He’s getting anxious.”

Glenn looked up at that. “When will we leave?”

“That’s a discussion for a later time,” Rick answered. “I saw something I didn’t like today. The countryside around the town is too clear. But we need to focus on the guns now. I want all of us armed, just in case.”

Carol gave him a questioning look. “I can go to the pantry in the day, leave a window slightly open, and you can just slip in during the night when everyone is at the party—” And that was _why_ Rick needed to have the dinner party, not to get to know Beatrice Reese better.

His eyes slanted over to Amanda, who just stared ahead expressionlessly. Rick wondered what she thought now, maybe feeling like shit because she had so little trust in him. Because although her catty jealousy had turned him on, the other part just felt the same weariness. Did she really think of him being like that—going after the first woman who flirted with him after he confessed that he loved her!

Goddammit! They both might act like he hadn’t said those words, but Rick hadn’t forgotten. Drifting away from the topic, Rick focused on the subject again.

“The guns are under lock and key—” Carol continued. “How do you take them?”

Rick shrugged. “I can pick locks.”

Amanda shook her head. “No—” she slowly said, twisting towards him on her seat, her expression still taciturn. “You’d be the immediate suspect. Aiden and his men will be watching you. If you aren’t around more than a few minutes, they would get worried,” she explained coolly. “I’ll go.”

Rick’s jaw set as he almost gritted his teeth. “No. You’re on Aiden’s radar, too.” The words left his mouth in a rasp. Amanda wasn’t only on his radar for being one of the prime suspects. Aiden Monroe had also made his interest in Amanda clear. “He would notice your absence.”

Her eyes narrowing, they shared a glance as Rick met her gaze openly, unflinching. His words had double meaning, and she looked like she was processing them, too, but then Carol’s voice cut into the silence.

“You’re both, right. Neither of you can go. I’ll go—” the older woman said. “I will go with Joan.” She tipped her head at Joan. “No one would notice our absence. She stands as lookout, and I take the guns.”

It was Daryl who refused then. “You can’t pick locks—”

“I don’t need to—” Carol shot back. “They must have keys. We find them and snitch them away. Joan also has free reign in the supplies now for her work assignment.”

Joan nodded. “Yeah. I can say I want to make an inventory to see how the meds are faring, then look around.”

Rick looked between two women. “Can you do it?”

They both gave a bob of their heads at the same time. “A’right.”

“I’ll watch your backs outside—” Daryl roughed out after their assent. “I ain’t goin’ to no parties anyways.”

Rick wasn’t surprised. Most of the time, the hunter didn’t even come inside the house aside from meals, spending his time on the back deck whenever he wasn’t taking a watch or a tour, and he slept in the garage.

If Rick had a choice, he wouldn’t do it, either, going to a party like they didn’t have enough problems, but he was the one who had suggested it, so he had to. Besides, seeing all townsfolk together with their guards down gave him an opportunity to spy on them, to see in a relaxed environment how they behaved. If anyone would create problems for them, Rick would pick it up. He just was going to think of it like that; not a social gathering, but a surveillance.

Before they left the den as their talk finished, Amanda turned to him again. “Where’s Deanna’s office upstairs?” she suddenly asked.

Rick frowned. “ _Why_ do you ask?”

“I’m gonna break into it—” Amanda answered calmly. “I want to see that dossier she has on us.”

“Amanda—”

She cut him off. “Where is it, Rick?”

The idea of Amanda reading what was inside that dossier irked Rick. He didn’t know what was written, but his gut feeling was telling him whatever it was, Amanda wasn’t going to like it. Yet she was also staring at him with that look again, sharp green eyes darkened in her cool expression. She was in her own full stubborn mule state, and Rick was tired of fighting with her. “Third room on the left side. At the end of the corridor—” he answered crisply. “It’s in the first drawer.”

She nodded, standing up and walking out the room. In the living room, the kids had already started watching a movie. Rick didn’t recognize it, but it was a children’s movie. He was glad for that for Mika. Carl was seated on the couch, Judith draped over his lap, half asleep. Beth had taken the armchair in the alcove with Cinnamon, as the others scattered around the living room.

Leaning down, Rick took the baby girl from Carl and padded to the other side of the couch, resting Judy half against his chest, half across his chest, slowly stroking her back to get her to fall asleep. Daryl started heading outside, leaving them, but Joan suddenly snapped her head up and caught him.

“You won’t watch the movie?” the dark haired nurse asked, her voice brisk.

And Rick saw Daryl getting flustered—a faint redness rising up over his neck as he bowed his head, shrugging. “Yeah—”

Joan just stared at him silently. Daryl then swaggered back inside.

Rick bowed his head towards Judy to hide his smile. He absently wondered if he looked like this with Amanda— _still_ looked like this… Rick raised his head as Daryl settled in one of the armchairs while Amanda strode off to Beth. She leaned forward and took the kitten from the teenager, then gazed around the room.

Most of the available seats were taken, so there was only space beside him and Carl on the couch or the big cushion in the alcove by Joan. She gazed at the spot by Rick, deliberately keeping her eyes away from him, but Rick stared at her in the same way Joan had stared at Daryl.

Her eyes darted for a second over to him, and they shared a glance. Holding her gaze, Rick scooted over toward the armrest just an inch, laying his arm across Judith. She eyed him a second longer, then after his silent, subtle invitation, started walking towards the couch, carrying her baby tabby in her arms. Rick fought to keep his expression neutral, as a pleased smile threatened to break out. He didn’t want her to sit away from him, but he was _still_ pissed at her.

Gingerly, Amanda settled on the couch beside him, Judith in his lap as Carl lounged on the other side. There were a few inches between them as they both kept carefully apart. But Rick could still feel the warmth spreading from her, and his hand over his knee across Judith itched to go up over her shoulders and take her under his arm, curling her up against him.

The movie was playing on the screen, and it was the first thing Rick had seen almost after two years, but if someone asked him what it was about, he couldn’t tell them a damn thing. His mind was all taken up by her, by her scent, by her warmth, and the urge to scoop her against him. But he wasn’t going to give in.

So Rick stayed motionless, staring at the TV without seeing anything, his blood pounding in his ears, before suddenly, it became too much, too fucking much. There was an erection definitely growing inside his jeans where he was half holding his baby girl in his lap. Shifting to move Judith from his lap to rest on his chest again, he felt his groin rub his jeans painfully. Rick almost hissed. Losing the battle, he twisted further and raising his free arm, he threw it across the back of the couch.

He wasn’t tucking her against him. No. He was just trying to relieve himself, to find the best position not to get a full-blown erection. 

Watching the movie, her hand had started stroking the kitten’s head absently, her fingers making soft, lazy circles. Cinnamon started purring as Rick imagined Amanda doing it instead while his fingers made lazy circles across her curves.

It was definitely the wrong thing to imagine. His cock twitched, and Rick closed his eyes. He stirred in his spot, adjusting Judith again. Amanda leaned back further against the couch, almost sliding over it, the nape of her neck touching the side of his forearm briefly. Rick’s breath hitched at the contact, but they both stayed silent as Amanda stopped stroking the kitten.

She dipped her head, and in the dim light, Rick caught her flushed cheeks, angling his head an inch. His eyes moved to the kitten. “Cinnamon—” Rick whispered to her, only for her ears. “I liked it.”

Amanda didn’t make a sound, but Rick saw a half smile curving her lips under her bowed head.

They didn’t talk further, just stayed motionless like that as Rick stared at the TV blankly. Later in the bedroom, he passed the night staring at the ceiling, as his kids slept beside him in the bed. Rick had almost thought of putting Judy back in the mini crib, but that would make the baby girl cry, and Rick wasn’t sure they would deal with a crying Judith right now.

So Judith stayed, and Carl slept, snoring softly while Rick just stared up at the ceiling. He almost gave up and left the room to make a night tour, to cool himself off, but something kept him in the bed instead, all night.

When it was finally dawn, Rick got up, took a cold shower, as cold as he could handle, and prepared to go out. Today was a new day, and he had a lot of things to do. Prepare for the night. Go see Beatrice. Make a patrol outside again. There were flower beds. Winter was coming. The chill of the morning had him shivering. As he headed downstairs, his mind had already started making another list.

He headed towards the kitchen for a quick breakfast, but unusually for these days, the room was empty. Yet on the island’s countertop, Rick saw pancakes, honey and cinnamon drizzled over the top of the stack.

His smile breaking free, Rick went and ate his pancakes before he left the house.

# # #

The boxing gym had what Amanda needed desperately: a heavy punching bag.

Skipping running and her usual workout routine, Amanda found a few pairs of boxing gloves beside the ring, took the smallest pair, and started punching the heavy bag, letting go of all of her frustrations.

Amanda didn’t even know why exactly she was pissed off right now, but nevertheless, hitting something felt good. Fuck it, it felt fucking marvelous. Her shoulders hunched up as she leaned in at a slight angle, she threw punches one after another, breathing laboriously, her feet moving on their own, the right one ahead of the other, her mind focused on the task…well, mostly.

She still drifted off towards what had made her wits tangle like this. God, if she could only fix up a yoga swing to hang from the ceiling, perhaps she really could manage to find some fucking balance. She followed a quick set of one-two punches then a take cover sequel. Her flow became more heated as she picked up the pace, her mind shutting all the thoughts away.

Amanda tried not to think of how she became last night when Rick made his move as they sat on the couch. Waiting for him to touch her, wondering if he was going to do it, anticipation twisting her core into a nervous ball as Amanda stared at the TV with blind eyes, not registering any damn thing before she found herself leaning back, the back of her neck resting against his arm.

She wanted him to take her in his arms as they watched the stupid movie, lay her across his lap, wanted him to play with her hair, touch her softly, stroke her—his hands sliding under her shirt, cupping her breast…

The images assaulted her as ferociously as Amanda pummeled the heavy bag. She could even feel the ghostly sensation of his hands over her breasts, playing with her nipples, pinching them just right, mouthing at them, sucking them, honey and cinnamon over her skin—tasting her.

She increased her pace even further, as fast as she could manage, just to shunt them away from her mind, but it was too late. The more furiously she hit the bag, the more viciously they leaped on her; her squirming on the floor of the shower, grinding at his face shamelessly, clenching him tightly, riding him over the bathroom’s tiles fast and rough. Rick fucking her like a feral man against the tree, trapping her with his body and with his hands… His hands were all over her, on every inch of her skin, their sticky bodies grinding each other against the cushions in the dim light just before he slid inside her—

Getting dizzy, Amanda stopped, holding onto the bag to steady herself. She propped her forehead on the soft, sturdy material, breathing out deeply. The world was spinning, and she felt lightheaded, but she wasn’t even sure of the reason anymore. She must be a masochist. She had no idea why she kept doing herself this.

She was going nuts. Perhaps she just should go and see that shrink. She thought of Beth going to her, but it was _her_ who needed to see the woman. Something wasn’t right with her. She’d always felt it deep down. Something must be wrong with her. Even her mother had left her in the hospital like an empty potato sack—

Amanda stopped that train of thought, almost hitting her head on the bag.

She should get a fucking grip on herself! Do something. Stop being stupid. Go and talk to Rick? Instead, she just stayed like that, hanging onto the heavy bag, heaving out deep, laborious breaths as she wondered if he saw the pancakes.

Amanda growled out loud this time, the throaty grumble escaping from her as she shook her head. She just couldn’t help herself. It felt so bad after last night, that in the morning when she woke up, the urge was too strong in her. She wanted him to eat her pancakes.

“Bad day, huh?” A husky male voice asked, and she could practically hear the smirk in it. “And it’s just started—” Amanda twisted her head and saw Aiden swaggering into the gym. “I know the feeling.”

Stepping back from the bag, Amanda shrugged. “It’s been a while since I threw punches at a bag.”

Aiden climbed up into the ring and bounded over to the other side, holding the rope up. “Wanna to work out some more?” he inquired, starting making little shifts from foot to foot. “C’mon up.”

Amanda shook her head. “No. Just finished. Maybe another time—” She blew off his attempt to get…more acquainted, turning around. “Gotta go.”

“Will I see you tonight at the party?” Aiden called out to her retreating back. “Still owe you a drink.”

“No, you don’t—” she shot back as she walked out.

Sharing a drink with Aiden Monroe was the last thing Amanda needed right now. She needed to make up with Rick. She was dealing with…stuff, but she still wanted him. The condom was still with her. Amanda had stuck it into her sports bra before she left the house this time. She was never going to leave it behind again. Even though she got cold feet at the last moment again, it wasn’t going to be because they didn’t have condoms. She didn’t want Rick to think as she was deliberately refusing him.

Well, Amanda was…deliberate in her actions, but it wasn’t like that. Not like she didn’t want him. She wanted Rick. She wanted him so much sometimes she thought she would go mad. Amanda wasn’t an idiot. She knew it was her fears blocking her, but in the end it made little difference. Knowing about them wasn’t making them magically disappear.

She quickly headed to the house for a quick shower, because she wanted to start doing some real surveying for a likely training field before she took a six-hour watch at the main gate. Yesterday she had spotted the field beside the maintenance building and the small greenhouse Rick spoke of earlier, and today she wanted to start sketching and planning. In the prison, she had less than ten people following her class and kids. If she started teaching larger numbers now, as they had talked yesterday, then they were going to have more classes, more shifts, ergo more planning.

Amanda wasn’t even sure if she could do it all alone. She felt like she was going to need help. If Abraham decided to stay in the long term, he was the best option Amanda could think of. He had been in the Army, had official training. She could also ask Rick for help, but well, as the things between them were the way they were, Abraham was the…safer choice.

Nevertheless, preparing an obstacle course was going to need a lot of manpower. They were going to need to dig a lot of ditches and trenches, then put up obstacles, prepare the field with ropes, traps, cargo nets, mud; all the usual joys of a boot camp. The mandatory course wouldn’t require finishing the whole thing. That was too much for the basics, but she still needed it for the people she was going to have to train properly.

Amanda took a quick shower, changed into her usual uniform now, combat pants, white shirt, and leather jacket, and finding a sketch book in the living room, left the house. Rick was with Glenn and Daryl, making a tour together as he held another sketch book himself. Amanda realized they were checking the wall for the weak points like he’d mentioned in the meeting yesterday.

She joined them.

“Hey—” she said, trying to keep her expression and her voice as cool as possible. She didn’t know where she stood right now with Rick after last night, but when she’d gone to the kitchen before she left the house, she’d seen the pancakes were gone.

She wasn’t sure if it was him or the others who had eaten them. But the rest of their people had this…instinct about them, knowing when it was time to stay the hell away from their things.

The look Rick gave her was on the same page with hers, as well. Not like the warm gaze with a faint smile when they were alone, but not a terse, stern glower, either. He looked equally neutral.

He eyed the book in her hand. “Planning?” he asked her.

“Yeah…” Amanda muttered, shifting her eyes around the grounds once more, mulling over what she’d been thinking in the shower, not them for a change. “This is getting out of my hands a bit,” she admitted. “I didn’t know I was going to train that many people.”

Without them, the town had around fifty people. Writing off Aiden and the other supply team that was still out, it would make at least thirty people. And their own people needed training, too; Noah, Father Gabriel, Bob, and the kids they’d found at Terminus, not to mention Beth, Carl, and Joan.

“We’re gonna help you—” Rick replied, nodding slightly, reading her concern. “You’re not going to do it alone.”

For a second or so, Amanda wondered if Rick was playing an angle to keep her inside the town, demanding a mandatory course for all of them. That way she wouldn’t have time to do anything else…like going outside without him.

 _I lied._ Amanda remembered his confession. The sly act really smelled of how Rick handled things. Killing two birds with one stone, getting what he wanted at the same time on both fronts: the townspeople trained, and Amanda inside the walls.

The thought soured her mood, even though a part of her still liked that he wanted to keep her safe. But it didn’t work like that. Rick knew that, too. Amanda had to be out as much as her trainees. She shouldn’t forget how it was outside the walls. Shouldn’t forget the dread, the horrors. She couldn’t forget. Right?

“I’m going to talk to Deanna about the flower beds today,” Rick suddenly remarked a bit firmer, cutting out her dazzled musings. “We need to get rid of them and start planting before winter arrives fully.”

Amanda almost let out a deep sigh. “No. Let’s wait until the dinner party is done,” she objected, shaking her head. “That would upset these people.” She paused. “And we really should keep at least the front gardens. We can plant the backyards. They’re big enough. Deanna said the pantry is still full, too.”

To her surprise, Rick nodded briefly in concession. “Yeah. Might work for now,” he said absently, gazing at the front gardens, the colorful flowers. Amanda fought to keep her face neutral as her lips twitched to form up a smile. “How long do you have until your shift?”

“An hour or so—” she replied.

“Let’s tour together,” he offered calmly, motioning with his head. “We look for your training field, too.”

All together, they walked around the perimeters, discussing, taking notes, counting. Before the hour ended, they strode slowly towards the community center and saw Joan and Carol leaving the warehouse across from it.

Moving around, they found one of the gazebos at the backside of the center. Amanda saw snuffed cigarette butts on the floor inside the gazebo and wondered if Beth was still smoking. She also made a mental note to talk to her about it tonight before they went to the party. Beth was going into the ‘sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll’ phase a little bit too much for her liking. Amanda wanted the teenager to have fun with her peers, but if she got drunk tonight—

“We left one of the windows looking back open,” Carol supplied as her musings were cut off again. “We can slip in tonight from there.”

They sat in the gazebo that looked out over the pond, discussing which guns and ammo Rick wanted them to snitch away and where to hide them later as Amanda gazed at a few ducks in the water. They were so pretty, so graceful, as they lazily swam together, a few ducklings swimming in tow. Amanda looked at the one with the emerald feathers along neck and head.

“It’s a male—” Carol said, following her gaze. “The brown is the female,“ the older woman continued, gesturing to the brown duck that was behind the other. Her lips jerked up into a smirking smile. “Like most animals in the wild, the males have to be more…showy to catch the eye of the females.”

Amanda’s eyes cut over to Rick for a second as he went on talking, ignoring their small talk. “We need to make two stashes. A cache inside the house, the other outside. I found a place in the woods,” he went on. “That could be our own safe house, too. We’ll stash half there.”

As her time for her shift neared, Amanda left them and walked toward the gate. The woman she remembered as Holly passed the rifle to her as she left with her own companion. Aiden trotted downhill towards her a few minutes later. She narrowed her eyes. Rick had made the slots, but she was sure he hadn't paired her up with the older Monroe brother.

Aiden’s dark curls were still wet after his shower. Amanda gazed at his hair as the man threw at her a smile. “Hey, partner—” he greeted her.

Amanda frowned. “We’re paired up?” she questioned.

“I changed up the shifts last night—” the man said. “You know, mix the teams together like we did the last time.” He paused. “So we get to know each other better.”

Her expression settling, Amanda wondered how much further he was going to take this. She even thought of confronting the man, but what was she going to tell him? That she was in a serious committed relationship? It wasn’t even like they had sat down and talked about it. They were together, but their lines were as blurred as ever, and Amanda was scared as hell about asking those questions now. She adjusted the rifle over her shoulder and grabbed the makeshift metallic ladder of the platform beside the gate.

“I’m not that interesting, really,” she brushed off his attempts once again, deflecting the statement as she climbed up. It wasn’t even a lie, either.

Aiden followed her up. She almost reminded him one of them needed to make a patrol, but she didn’t do that, either. Either way, perhaps she just should tell him his method of approach was doomed. That Amanda didn’t fuck her partners. Rick was…well, Rick was her exception.

Amanda pulled herself up to the platform and stared outside of the town. She recalled what Rick had told her last night. Their surroundings were really too clean, too calm, and too silent. She remembered the eerie silence of the night they’d come to town. Each night since had been exactly like that, too. Amanda realized it much better now. The town was too silent. She could only see a few walkers around at the other side of the wall, wandering aimlessly.

Something was off, and Rick was right. Something wasn’t right, but Amanda couldn’t figure out what it was. It was that tingling inside her, possibly the same thing that made Rick alert, too. Their cop intuitions, perhaps.

“I disagree—” Aiden said, climbing up beside her from the ladder, interrupting her thoughts. “You’re the only female cop I’ve ever known,” he commented as Amanda watched outside the walls. “How did you become a cop?” he questioned further, taking her silence as an approval. “Was it your family? Your father? Is he a cop, too? Or your mother?”

Amanda almost laughed at his usage of present tense. “I don’t know,” she replied indifferently as she felt Aiden halt a second beside her before she decided to do a little bit of testing. “Never knew my parents. Born into the foster system.”

Like each time she uttered those words, a tense, awkward pause strained the air between them. She wondered if Aiden would take the bait. Most of the time slipping out a small clue to see if the words would circle back to you was the quickest way to determine someone’s level of discretion.

“I’m sorry,” Aiden said after the brief pause, like most people did.

Amanda shrugged. “It’s okay.”

It was okay. She’d thought she could at least have a name when she had started looking into her past after she got shot in her shoulder. Madeline Shepherd had been an orphan herself. The only thing her mother had given to her was her full name: Amanda Shepherd, not even listing a father on her birth certificate. 

Sometimes Amanda used to wonder why her mother had chosen her name, why she named her Amanda…perhaps there was a story behind it? She’d wanted to ask her that when she found her. She wanted to ask why. There were so many things Amanda wanted to ask her mother, so many _whys_ , but dead people couldn’t answer any questions.

She turned her gaze inside the walls. “One of us needs to patrol—” she announced firmly.

Taking her dismissal, Aiden bobbed his head, holding his rifle against his chest. “I’ll go.”

Amanda watched his back, then just before he started climbing down, she called out to him. “Hey—” Aiden stopped and turned to her. “When are you going out again?”

She had to be out. That was what she was, what she did. _I prowl, scavenge, and kill rotters._ Amanda Shepherd in a nutshell.

“Next weekend—” Aiden replied. “We’ll plan a supply run to go check around. Rick isn’t the only one who wants to look around.” His rasping tone was almost hostile, but Amanda didn’t concern herself with it. If they were going to start a pissing contest like two animals in the wild, it wasn’t her business.

Amanda was just going to do her job. “Count me in, too. Gotta earn my keep.”

With that, she turned ahead and kept her watch.


End file.
